Natalia Adani and the Boys of Hogwarts
by Lucy Lupin
Summary: COMPLETE So you thought Ravenclaws were dull, huh? That was before Miss Adani arrived. Armed with her Quidditch bat and a temper to make Snape look positively serene, she must deal with the wimpy Hogwarts boys any way she can.
1. Oh joy, Hogwarts!

Natalia Adani's Book of Charms and Curses (Well, it is my diary, moron)  
  
Natalia is a minor character I created for a Harry Potter story I was writing for my cousins, but I've decided that she has too much potential to be restricted for a Cousins of Mary Sue piece. Plus, there are aspects of her character that no innocent little girls should know about.he he he.  
  
Natalia is a feisty fifth year Italian American who was attending top-notch academy Hecate's in the United States, where she reigned as school Seeker. However due to an unfortunate incident involving you-know-who, the school nurse and a smoked sausage, the school was closed indefinitely. Several European schools offered to take the Hecatites in. Natalia has the fortune (she personally finds this debatable) to be placed in Hogwarts, the home of You-Guessed-It.  
  
I stress this is NOT a Mary Sue. Natalia is a gorgeous, dark-haired athlete with a thing for Quidditch players; I am a short redhead who couldn't get a boy to look at her if I threw a Quaffle in his face.  
  
So maybe we do have the Quidditch player thing in common.  
  
This story take place when the three stooges are second years, but I haven't decided how closely it will follow JK Rowling's book (probably not that closely - given that I am going to give it an PG-13 rating, for reasons that will become clear while reading it).  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry One: Oh Joy, Hogwarts!  
  
Natalia finds herself in a school in need of a good shake-up.  
  
4:47 PM, September 1st  
  
Spent the entire train ride shivering because of primitive British wizards who haven't figured out how to make central heating compatible with magic mechanics. I bet they don't get MTV (Magic Transmission Videos) here either.  
  
Why couldn't I have gone to the Continent?  
  
Was briefly interrupted by a dear little ("little" being a relative term) mite called Neville Frogbottom who had lost a toad. Is clearly not particularly bright because if I had a toad, I would try and lose it as quickly as possible by slipping it down the shirt of the snotty curly- haired prefect who walked by a few seconds ago. They are so nineteen- eighties. He had a pimple the size of a Hippogriff on his noise, so I used one of Mother's Cosmetology spells to banish it. Mother works in Hollywood but pretends to be a run-of-the-mill Muggle plastic surgeon to the stars, so she puts them to sleep and charges them outlandish fees for what is in actuality a simple procedure.  
  
My idol.  
  
Come to think of it, Frogbottom looked better with the Quaffle-sized ball of pus on the end of his honker. Less of his face was visible then.  
  
Dear little mite.  
  
6:31 PM  
  
Well, well, the Sorting Ceremony has started, and I couldn't have come up with a better insomnia cure if I tried. Apparently this creaky old hat just plunks its arse down on a stool and recites the same poem year after year. Have included the original version of what it said, but I added my own touches so that I don't end up snoring away with a pile of drool gathering on the desk (But I'm sure I'm adorable even when I snore).  
  
SH: Every Autumn, in they come,  
  
NA: The first years, ugly, boring or dumb?  
  
SH: So to take the worry from every face,  
  
NA: McGonagall will moon the place.  
  
SH: Four houses, each one special and unique,  
  
NA: Flitwick's beard is full of ink.  
  
SH: I'm the Sorting Hat, that's what I do,  
  
NA: I'm going to throw my shoe at you.  
  
SH: A house for you to call your own,  
  
NA: There goes Creevey's dinner, down the throne.  
  
SH: Bold, adventurous and true,  
  
NA: Those Gryffindors make me spew.  
  
SH: Or if you hungry for books and lore,  
  
NA: I'd say you were a hopeless bore.  
  
SH: Or if you are loyal and kind,  
  
NA: To the real world, you are most definitely blind.  
  
SH: But if you favor cunning and adversity,  
  
NA: Woo Hoo, Slytherin is the place for me!  
  
SH: Bold, clever, faithful or sly,  
  
NA: Put me in Slytherin or I'll die!  
  
SH: So step up when you hear your name,  
  
NA: I hope I don't go through this again.  
  
Mwahh haa ha haa.  
  
One hour later  
  
Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please times infinity put me in Slytherin.  
  
One minute later  
  
%$#$%@##****! Bloody Ravenclaw!  
  
Goddamn it! I knew nothing good could ever come from getting top marks in my PreOWLS!  
  
And could someone please invent a hot nerd?  
  
One more minute later  
  
Well, I guess pale blue does go well with my olive complexion.  
  
Yet another minute later  
  
Have just sat next to a luscious creature called Roger Davies. The world's first sighting of a hot nerd.  
  
Thankyouthankyouthankyou.  
  
8:01 PM  
  
Roger has just been telling me all about Ravenclaw while running his hand up my thigh. Really very friendly guy. Am missing lack of central heating already.  
  
Apparently we are meant to be one of the more "boring" houses.  
  
We will see about that. 


	2. Wish I was in Slytherin

Entry Two: Wish I was in Slytherin  
  
Natalia charms pimples onto students' noses, transfigures their school uniforms into sketchy Academy Award dresses and adores her Potions class. And for some reason people think she's in Slytherin.  
  
2:06 AM  
  
Somebody shoot me now.  
  
There is no central heating in this place, our house head is a little dwarf with inkstains on his beard, and my housemates think the ideal way to hit on someone is to talk about Quantum Theory in a bar.  
  
2:13 AM  
  
Well, I guess it's better than what most people talk about in a bar.  
  
8:37 AM  
  
Things are looking up.  
  
Overheard one of my housemates complaining to Roger Davies about how there are no "hot babes" in Ravenclaw.  
  
I think I hear a call to arms.  
  
8:54 AM  
  
Bumped into a little slime named Draco Malfoy who knows more than any thirteen year old has a right to. Said he'd heard I played Quidditch and asked if I wanted to try out his brand spanking new Nimbus Two Thousand and One. And winked.  
  
Puhleaase. Judging by the size of that hand I was forced to shake, Fisher- Price's "My First Wand" would be more like it. Don't flatter yourself, tiny.  
  
And that nose, even a mother would put up for adoption. Think albino rat, but with a beak. It couldn't get any worse.  
  
Or could it?  
  
Neville Frogbottom's pimple has found a new home.  
  
9:39 AM  
  
Okay, now I'm having Charms with Gryffindor. Really don't like Gryffindor because they are such self-righteous little prigs. "We've got the House Cup and we've got Harry Potter and we've got the best house in the school and we've got Harry Potter".. Repeat ad nauseam.  
  
On the plus side, have first Potions class in the next hour. It's taught by Severus Snape, the head of Slytherin house. Am quite looking forward to it as Gryffindors have been mewing about Snape all class, and anyone who hates Gryffindor is fine with me.  
  
Okay, maybe not Malfoy.  
  
10:32 AM  
  
Potions. Adrian Pucey quite enticing. Snape needs a bath, a haircut, and a wardrove that isn't two hundred years out of date, but is still by far the sexiest teacher in the school (well, look what he's up against). That voice, I could listen to if it recited every recipe ever published in Witches Weekly. Damn.  
  
Wish I was in Slytherin.  
  
Asked Roger Davies about Adrian Pucey after class, but he said he doesn't bat for my team.  
  
He hasn't seen my curveball.  
  
Wish I was in Slytherin.  
  
12:08 PM  
  
Lunchtime. Running late because of having to deal with Interchangeable Weasle-y who dropped a White Chocolate Frog down the back of my sweater.  
  
I hate white chocolate and as for frogs, well, do I look French to you?  
  
Was in the process of transfiguring his school uniform in Bjork's Academy Awards dress when a big and rather gormless-looking second year in Slytherin colors asked if I knew the way to our common room.  
  
"Our" common room?  
  
Compliments come in many shapes and sizes and from some incredibly stupid people.  
  
Wish I really "was" in Slytherin.  
  
12:16 PM  
  
Finally got to lunch but Penelope Clearwater (previously known as snotty curled-haired prefect) had nabbed the spot next to Roger Davies and was yapping on about Quantum Theory.  
  
Quantum Theory?  
  
Blatant hussy. She will learn a nasty playground lesson very late in life.  
  
Sat next to a mosquito-bite-sized little thing named Cho Ching (why didn't her parents just call her Ker Ching and get it over with?) who is hoping to fill the vacant Ravenclaw Seeker's spot.  
  
Penelope will have company.  
  
12:41 PM  
  
Cornered Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, and asked if there was any way I could get into Slytherin. Replied, "No, but I know how I could get a Slytherin into you" and started fiddling with the buttons on my shirt.  
  
Flint's chances of scoring here? Can you say "Impedimenta?"  
  
I did. Mwaah ha ha.  
  
Believe me, this incident doesn't come close to explaining why Adrian Pucey prefers boys.  
  
2:57 PM  
  
Collided with what looking like Miss Piggy's ugly second cousin but on closer inspection turned out to be Pansy Parkinson, Malfoy's girlfriend and a Slytherin.  
  
Now understand Adrian Pucey completely. 


	3. Mary Sue, who are you?

Author's note: Since this is the third entry, I feel as though I should put up a long-overdue disclaimer. So, here it is in all its glory. Happy belated disclaimer.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Roger Davies (although a girl can write fanfic, he he), Penelope Clearwater, Draco Malfoy, or any such person mentioned in this diary. Any resemblance to any beings, living or dead or in any Harry Potter books, is completely uncoincidential and intentional (hey, it's a fanfic!). Natalia Adani though, in a totally non-sexual way, is totally mine. Time for green eyes, boys :). The sexy cousin of a certain guest at Hogwarts, when I decide for him to make an appearance, is also a figment of my rather dubious imagination.  
  
Also, this entry contains a MASSIVE MARY SUE PARODY. I don't have anything against Mary Sues, some are quite good, but I just couldn't resist poking fun at them.  
  
Author's note part two: Does anyone know how to paste a picture onto your bio page? I'd love to draw a pic of Nat to put on, but I'm techno illiterate.  
  
Okay, I'll shut up now: I realise I forgot to date my last entry (September 2nd), so I'll make a special effort to remember this one. Too many cups of tea...  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry Three: Mary Sue, who are you?  
  
Natalia discovers that there is a very popular girls' name doing the rounds at Hogwarts.  
  
9:49 PM, September 5th  
  
Okay, perhaps it's not late enough to make such a momentous decision (I do my best thinking around one AM, but stupid British wizards want to start breakfast at seven), but I have decided not screw Roger Davies.  
  
Yes, mother, you can still expect grandchildren from me.  
  
I am not going the same route as Adrian Pucey. Roger still totally works for me; it's just that right now I need him more as the sidekick/indispensable guy pal type than as, well, you know. I guess if I got really desperate I could murder six mugs of Butterbeer and puncture Marcus Flint, but (prudishly) I have my reputation to consider.  
  
Natalia Adani does not screw ugly guys, damn it.  
  
And six mugs just wouldn't do it. Bloody Merlin, I don't think the whole of Hogsmeades houses enough Butterbeer to create beer goggles powerful enough to render Troll Boy attractive.  
  
But back to the indispensable guy pal thing. I think I'm going to need one here more than anywhere else I've ever been (and I've been plenty of places, baby). For one thing, I've never had many female friends.  
  
Strange that.  
  
And for another, for some reason the ratio of girls to guys in this school is just way whacked. I mean, what is up here? For every Quidditch stud there's like ten thousand salivating teeny boppers. It's like in ancient times when in some societies they'd drop newborn girls down the well, but in reverse.  
  
There's a certain prefect I wish I could drop down a well.  
  
Well, guess it's time I round this off since, after all, I need my beauty sleep, though not as much as some (*cough* Penelope Clearwater! *cough* *cough*). That silly cow is snoring again. She really is grating on me, and since I'm not Cheddar there's no reason why I should put up with it.  
  
Perhaps I'll steal her boyfriend.  
  
8:36 AM, September 6th  
  
Was rudely shaken awake by random Ravenclaw nerd. "Wake up, wake up," she panted. "You overslept and you've missed breakfast."  
  
"Wha?" I groaned, trying to force myself in consciousness. Natalia, Natalia, when there is an audience present, you are never "off." "But I set an alarm clock." Actually, the last part was more like, "Buth arve sempt arn alarhmph clomp." Give me a break; I'd just woken up. Even I can't be fabulous before nine o'clock in the morning.  
  
"Oh, alarm clocks don't work here," she said breezily, tossing golden locks over her shoulder. They made an awful din once they hit the floor. No, I jest. "No Muggle things do. They're battery operated, you see."  
  
Damn primitive British wizards who can't make batteries compatible with leg- locking curses. "Who the hell are you?" I barked.  
  
"Mary Sue, Oliver Wood's girlfriend," she said, fluttering her eyelashes and emitting a Valley Girl giggle. "He's the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, he's Scottish and he's just dreeeaaamy, you know."  
  
Hmm. Always thought the last two automatically went together.  
  
"Mm-hmm," I say, trying to mentally shake the sleep out of my head. The thing about this chick is that not only is she in Ravenclaw (and assumedly smart although perhaps the Sorting Hat did a better job finding it than I did), but she's drop-dead gorgeous and, get this, skinny but with sizeable assets in a certain area. Now, I can't speak for the majority of girls, but I know that even I, to be gifted where it counts, have to pack a lot of meat everywhere else. And where as sizewise, I'm more melon-esque (which I'd always thought to be pretty impressive), with her we're talking Quaffles.  
  
This Mary Sue is just too freaky to be real.  
  
"Hey," I said, heaving myself and my melons off my lumpy four-poster bed (I'm not a big fan of the mattress but at least the pillars can have stuff tied to them, and therefore infinitely interesting possibilities), "do the twins lie down when you do?"  
  
"What?" she blinked.  
  
"Nevermind," I said. "Have to go have a shower." I left the broomstick and her Quaffles behind and stumbled off towards the bathroom. Really don't like British bathrooms. See, back home we're smart enough to realise that when people wake up, the first things they want to do is have a shower "and" relieve lesser bodily functions. So we set it up so that you can do both in the same room. But in Hogwarts, they have one in a room all on its lonesome and they call a "toilet," so you actually have to go to one room then a completely different one that the higher powers at the school have decided to place marathon distance away from the first. Which is not great when you're running late, and you're a poet but you're too cool to show it.  
  
Okay, now for my dirty little secret. And no, not the one called "William."  
  
I, star student and studette and Quidditch extraordinaire, do not have twenty-twenty vision. What I do have though, is a superior mastery of the eye correction charm, so every morning I fix myself up so I can go through the days without glasses and stand a much better chance of keeping my stratospheric pre-OWL results secret, since everyone assumes that if you have glasses, you must be smart. And a virgin.  
  
But this morning I forgot.  
  
So when I pushed open the door with the little person on the front, my vision was blurred to the point where I thought the little person was wearing a skirt, when really HE wasn't. At all.  
  
And neither was the buff bronzed god when I blundered into the GUYS bathroom this morning.  
  
"Um, this is the boys' bathroom," this apparition said to me in a gorgeous Scottish accent as I stood rooted to the spot in the doorway. Very surprised that I noticed his accent, considering what else was on display.  
  
"I can see that," I said, then realised exactly "what" I was looking at as I spoke. "I mean, I mean, I can't see anything at all, really, I should be wearing glasses."  
  
"YOU wear glasses?" he gaped as I stood there gaping at it, I mean, him. Oh eyes, dear eyes, pleeeasse look upwards.  
  
"Yeah," I stuttered out. "I'm in Ravenclaw, you know."  
  
"YOU'RE in Ravenclaw?" he repeated back to me.  
  
"Yeah, usually that's where you can find me, but right now I'm in the guys' bathroom, as you've so kindly pointed out, so I'm just-going-to-go-to-the- girls'-bathroom-and-have-a-shower," I stammered, then turned and bolted out the door.  
  
If you've ever tried to drown yourself in the shower, please take note. It doesn't work.  
  
12:56 PM  
  
Hate Gryffindor.  
  
Okay, so I overslept. And really I wasn't to blame, stupid primitive British wizards were. So I thought that if I was going to be late, I may as well be fashionably late, and not only had a shower but styled my hair and crafted smouldering eyes and a sultry mouth with my new Chanel colours compact.  
  
Really, what's five minutes? Or ten. Or thirty-seven..  
  
So maybe I shouldn't have waltzed into Transfigurations, of all classes, at 9:37 AM while the nerds and the "We've got Harry Potter" Gryffindors were taking a pop quiz. And maybe I shouldn't have said, "I know I'm late, but darling, I'm worth it."  
  
Perhaps Queen Victoriana, Professor McGonagall, didn't pick up on my witty L'Oreal Feria commercial reference. She certainly picked up a detention slip.  
  
Hate Gryffindor.  
  
To make matters worse, this being Hogwarts and everything being so boring (especially in my house) that they have no lives so they have to discuss everyone else's, by the time I got to lunch word had got around re: This Morning's Incident. "Hey Adani," Roger drawled as I slumped onto the bench next to him, "what's this I hear about you catching a glimpse of Wood's wood in the shower this morning, and, more importantly, you needing to wear glasses?"  
  
"Please don't ask," I mutter.  
  
"I just did," he beamed.  
  
"Hey, Natalia," someone demanded. I turned around to see a redhead with features that would make a Veela weep with envy glaring down at me. "I'm Mary Sue, I'm in Gryffindor and I really don't appreciate you trying to catch my boyfriend naked."  
  
"But I just met a Mary Sue this morning," I stammer, "and she was blonde, and "she" was dating Oliver Wood-"  
  
"What are you talking about?" a gorgeous asian girl squealed. "I'M Mary Sue, I'M in Gryffindor, and I'M going out with Oliver Wood. He's the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you know, and did I mention that I'm in Gryffindor?"  
  
"Repeatedly," Roger sighed.  
  
"Has this happened before?" I whispered to him, surprised by his nonchalance.  
  
"Like clockwork," he replied.  
  
"Oh, there's many Mary Sues out there," drawled a voluptuous brunette, "but I'm sure I'm the most unique. I'm in Gryffindor, but I'm dating Roger Davies."  
  
Roger spat out his soup.  
  
"But I'm Mary Sue," the Mary Sue who had terrified me this morning chimed in, "and I'm in Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor, because I'm original, you see, and I'm dating Oliver Wood!"  
  
"But, but-" I stuttered and started to shake. My poor, frail mind.  
  
"Hello, darling," the Mary Sue next to Roger sighed, falling into his lap and attempting to shove her tongue down his throat.  
  
"I'm as surprised by this as you are," Roger hissed to me, trying to escape her roving hands.  
  
"I'm Mary Sue, I'm in Gryffindor and I'm dating Oliver Wood!"  
  
"No, I'M Mary Sue and I'M in Gryffindor and I'M dating Oliver Wood!"  
  
"But I'm Mary Sue, I'm in Gryffindor and I'm SHAGGING Oliver Wood!"  
  
"YOU HUSSY!" About half the female content of the Great Hall rushed in to join the fight.  
  
"Great, now hopefully they all kill each other," Roger muttered, trying to shove his particular Mary Sue off his lap. "Look, you, "my" tongue stays in "my" mouth, so please keep yours in yours."  
  
Meanwhile, over at the Gryffindor table, several calendar-worthy beauties were surrounding You-Guessed-It. "Hello, Harry Potter," cooed one, "I'm Mary Sue and I'm your girlfriend."  
  
"But I'm only twelve," Harry trembled.  
  
Just then the buffed bronzed god, who I had seen very much in the buff earlier today, sauntered into the Great Hall. "OLIVER!" shrieked the now rather battered Mary Sues, then raced towards him.  
  
"AHHHH!" he screamed, then sprinted out of the room.  
  
After school, I will visit Snape and ask for a "very" strong sleeping potion. 


	4. I wanna be sedated

Author's note: So once again I find myself writing the diary of the oldest sixteen year old in the world. Not one of my better efforts, but it was an entry I had to write in order to go on to other things, and I'm saving some for Entry Five.  
  
I think my previous disclaimer summed it up, but I don't own any Harry Potter characters; I'm just helping them break out of their shells a little...Also (and the necessity of this will become clear upon reading this) I'm not homophobic, don't want to be, and neither is Nat since she certainly seems to like Adrian Pucey...  
  
This entry is dedicated to Shewhodares for all her reviews. And everyone else who read it, well, I hope you all enjoyed the very naked Oliver Wood in its precessor.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry Four: I wanna be sedated  
  
Poor Natalia. Less than a week at Hogwarts and she's already attempting to jump out of windows..  
  
7:12 PM, September 6th  
  
Imagine what you would feel like if all of a sudden you got sucked into a "Where's Waldo?" book, and every single Waldo was dating Oliver Wood. Or at least blindly convinced that they were.  
  
That was my day.  
  
By the time three oclock rolled around, was breaking out in sweats and babbling on about pink Hippogriffs.  
  
My guardian angel Roger had to escourt me to Snape's office, which took forever since had to avoid all the popular halls (the ones that don't have knights that wolf-whistle and slap your arse as you walk past) and go the long way. This was because every time we encountered a Gryffindor girl in her teens, I would start hyperventilating and screaming, "Mary Sue! Mary Sue!"  
  
Roger said I would get used to it eventually.  
  
All went well until Roger decided to take a "very" misguided short cut through the library. Nervously pointed out that they'd be people there, especially Hufflepuffs, but Roger was undetered. "Don't worry," he assured me. "Gryffindors never come to the library. They're too busy saving the free world and having Harry Potter and telling everyone about how they have Harry Potter. It's practically our second home."  
  
At first all was well. Nothing but Ravenclaws discussing Quantum Theory and Hufflepuffs industriously trying to prove that a good work ethic can make up for a significant lack in natural intelligence and failing miserably.  
  
Then I saw HER.  
  
She was sitting in the Transfiguration corner of the library with her bushy brown head bent over a copy of "Herbology and Lobotomy in the 18th Century" that I had struggled through in my third year. And she was wearing a GRYFFINDOR scarf.  
  
"R-Roger?" I squeaked, clawing desperately at the sleeve of his woolen sweater. "A M-M-Mary Sue...A MARY SUE! A MARY SUE!"  
  
The frightful sight raised her head and looked at me in a level, haughty manner. "My name is "not" Mary Sue," she said in a toffeeish, la-de-da accent. "I am called Hermione."  
  
"They've started taking on new forms!" I wailed, burrowing further into Roger's arms. "It's like how a virus eventually develops new strains to beat the medication! We'll NEVER be rid of them!"  
  
"Nat, please calm down," he said, trying to lead me out of the library, which was easier said than done since kept walking on his toes in frensied effort to get away from this new destructive breed of Mary Sue. "It's only Hermione Granger. She's a friend of Harry Potter's."  
  
"A FRIEND OF HARRY POTTER'S?" I screamed hysterically. "THEY'RE ALL FRIENDS OF HARRY POTTER'S!" Tore out of his grasp and ran blindly towards the massive stained window at the end of the room, thinking only (and I mean only) to escape all Mary Sues forever.  
  
At this point Roger had no choice but to administer the freeze curse.  
  
At this point (given what earlier portion of day had been like, and thus following a trend), Adrian Pucey also had to walk in.  
  
"Effing Merlin," he sad, spotting me lying rigid on the floor, "is that what happens to hot birds after a week with you Ravenclaw blokes? They freeze up?"  
  
"Stop being a wise-arse and help me get her to Snape's," Roger scowled at him.  
  
"Righto," Adrian said. He took my arms, Roger took my legs, and they both hoisted me up and carried me out of the library. Would have quite enjoyed the experience if had not been frosen and therefore completely devoid of all sensation.  
  
Snape was grumpy bastard when Adrian and Roger first arrived carrying me into his office, but upon learning that my affliction was Gryffindor- caused, became quite sympathetic and understanding. Heated up a mug of Butterbeer for me and gave me a small cauldron of sleeping potion to drink later.  
  
7:26 PM  
  
Not sure exactly what's in cauldron, but am considering adopting it. Or slipping it down the back of Penelope Clearwater's shirt.  
  
Really should steal her boyfriend.  
  
Oh well, here goes.  
  
Cheers *chug* *chug*...  
  
7:54 PM  
  
Hmm, sleeping potion doesn't seem to be working. Maybe instead of gradually taking hold (like an infatuation with your best friend), it sort of kicks in all of a sudden, without any transitional sentence or warning...  
  
7:55 PM  
  
Ahhh loshk, lurvvely pinsh Hippshogriffs *plonk* Zzzz.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
9:19 AM, September 9th  
  
During Transfiguration McGonagall told me to go visit her sugar daddy, Albus Dumbledore (henceforth to be known as Doublebore). Even told me to not worry about making up pop quiz. Penelope must be very relieved as now miss out chance to catch up to her in class rankings. That heifer. Must remember to steal her boyfriend.  
  
Oh shite, the principal's office. Hope this isn't about this Saturday, when I went to Hogsmeades and can't remember anything but woke up with stamps saying such things as "The Frisky Wand" and "The Groovy Cauldron" all over my arm.  
  
9:21 AM  
  
Is it just me or does "The Frisky Wand" sound like a gay bar?  
  
What the hell was I doing in a gay bar?  
  
9:34 AM  
  
Hmm, password to Doublebore's office is "Tutti-Fruit." Suspect the sumptuous Slytherin that is Adrian Pucey is not only one with alternative leanings in this school. Must be that cold British weather and (if Clearwater is anything to go by) even colder women. Guess better try to make like a missionary and convert some of them if I am to maintain sanity over next three years.  
  
9:36 AM  
  
Verdict: Doublebore looks like Father Christmas let loose in the whoopee- weed.  
  
Has eyebrows like giant white caterpillars and robes that resemble a hippie's nightgown gone wrong. And as for his hair, can't bear to mention his hair. Actually, if said "bear" with great shaggy beast in mind (no, not Hagrid), would be close to him. Or Hagrid. "Ah, Miss Adani," he breathes, "take a seat."  
  
"Take" a seat? Hmm. Lucky I'm not a kleptomaniac, but can't expect everyone to have my foresight. Sit down graciously anyway, preparing to commence Natalia's How To Convince Gullible Adults I'm Perfect And Charming (But Not Boring And Ugly Like Penelope) 1001.  
  
Doublebore stared at me over the top of his glasses and under the rim of those giant caterpillars. "The reason why I asked you here, Natalia, is to ask how well you are settling in to your new school."  
  
So this was all he wanted? Terrific. Thing with adults in positions of authority is that have better things to do than be bothered with us (or at least think they do, being blind to my complete fabulousness), so best course of action is to tell them what they want to hear, and they'll choose to take it at face value and not dig any further. "Oh, it's great here," I enthused. "My Ravenclaw housemates are such an interesting group and the Slytherins have been soooo nice and friendly."  
  
Okay, maybe that last bit was pushing it.  
  
"Then why, Natalia, on Friday afternoon, were you seen attempting to jump out of the library windows?"  
  
Oh HELL.  
  
"Well, you see, Professor-" I stammered.  
  
"Please, call me Albus," he requested with a wave of his hand.  
  
He's requesting first name terms. Oh shit, Natalia, you're in deep."Well, you see, um, Albus, thing is I wasn't trying to off myself-"  
  
"I never suggested that was what you were doing, Natalia," he says smoothly. "You did."  
  
FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFARRRKKK! "I was just trying to escape from the Mary Sues."  
  
"Death is not the answer to our lives problems, Natalia."  
  
"I just didn't know that they came to this school and I was surprised by exactly how popular this destination was with them," I protested. "I just saw one-"  
  
"Which turned out to be Hermione Granger, a dear second year girl who is not particularly the stuff of nightmares. Hallucinating is not the sign of a stable mind, Natalia."  
  
Look, I'm not exactly gone to the point where I'm in danger of forgetting my own name, Mister. With you uttering it every ten second, I don't really have the opportunity. And as for Hermione "not" being the stuff of nightmares, well, has he taken a good look at her hair recently?  
  
"Well, at the time I thought she was a Mary Sue, so if you consider that in weighing up my actions, "Albus" (touché), I'm sure that they will make a lot more sense. I just wanted to get away. I wasn't even thinking of being hurt."  
  
"It never occurred to you that leaping through a glass window ten stories from the ground would cause any long term damage?" Doublebore blinked.  
  
On paper, I guess it does sound pretty bad. "Ask Roger Davies," I said desperately. "He was with me. He'll tell you that's all I was doing." Then, because it is the magic word that seems to make everything better with adults, "He's a PREFECT."  
  
"Ahh, Mister Davies." A faint smile crossed Doublebore's lips. "That was another matter on which I wish to speak to about."  
  
Is this about Saturday night?  
  
"As you may well know," Doublebore began, "since you and Mister Davies appear to be very close-"  
  
Oh shit, it "is" about Saturday night.  
  
"-Mister Davies is the captain of your house Quidditch team," continued Doublebore.  
  
Quidditch? What in Merlin does this have to do with Quidditch?  
  
"Now, in lieu of your alarming behaviour yesterday afternoon, it was suggested to me that you be removed from anything that could cause you to do injury to yourself."  
  
Hell, he wasn't "that" rough with me! Was he "with me" at all? Damn Butterbeer to hell.  
  
"However, Mister Davies strenuously pleaded your case with me, and Snape also concurred that you were unlikely to do a repeat performance. Therefore, I have decided to allow you to continue with Quidditch."  
  
I blinked.  
  
"My only condition is that you will take a mild anti-depressant potion that Madame Pomfrey has prepared for you before each practice and game," Doublebore continued. "We only want you to be happy and well. And, Natalia," cue grandfatherly smile, "nothing is ever that bad."  
  
Hermione's hair is.  
  
Merlin, I hate adults who actually care.  
  
10:09 AM  
  
Arrived back from the lair of the Mary-Jane (or should it be called Mary Sue here?) smoking guru in Dementor-terrifying mood. Even the Knights in the fifth floor hallway neglected to grab my arse.  
  
However, it is very hard to stay mad in the realm of Gryffindor loathers.  
  
10:27 AM  
  
Mmm, Snape's class. I'm in love! That voice, those dark eyes (well, couldn't really pick any other feature since the rest are affected by obvious lack of personal hygiene), that loathing we share of all things Gryffindor..ahhh. And (sigh) he pronounces my name Nar-Tarl-LEE-Ah, not Natal-Liar. And he gave that dumb bottle blonde cow Katie Bell (moo moo) a detention today.  
  
Love Snape.  
  
10:28 AM  
  
Oh shite. That means she'll be sharing detention with meeeeee...  
  
Hate Snape. 


	5. Sleeping with the Enemy, or wanting to

Finally, here is this: THE OLIVER WOOD ENTRY! Woo hoo, I am very, very excited.  
  
I was planning on waiting a few days after the fourth entry, but the internet has been acting up recently, so I thought I would chuck this on during a rare incident it decided to behave itself..  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry Five: Sleeping with the Enemy (or at least wanting to)  
  
Natalia discovers that those Gryffindors aren't so bad..  
  
11:02 AM, September 9th  
  
Pleaded Moo's case with Snape after class but his mind was made up. She was a Gryffindor and he had smelt blood.  
  
"But Professor, Katie has done nothing worthy of sharing detention with me on Friday afternoon," I said, hinting and winking heavily.  
  
"Well, since I am aware that Professor McGonagall of Gryffindor house gave you this detention, and Miss Bell herself is a Gryffindor, consider it an eye for an eye," Snape replied, winking heavily back.  
  
He should really not do that, as sight quite unpleasant. Only sexy when being grumpy sulky bastard really.  
  
"However, bearing in mind your attempted chivalry towards a fellow student, I will add ten points to Slytherin house."  
  
"But, Professor," I began, "I'm in Ravenclaw."  
  
"What a shame," he purred. "Think of what might have been."  
  
Effing Merlin, is he "hitting" on me?  
  
"Err, thank you, Professor," I said, gathering my books together and preparing to make my gobsmacked way out of the room.  
  
"Oh, and Natalia-"  
  
"Yes, Professor?" I stammered.  
  
"Ten points off Ravenclaw house for attempting to interfere in a professor's decision. I really do not appreciate your high handed manner."  
  
Jeez. Just when you think someone likes you..  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
2:51 PM, September 13th  
  
Well, week flew off like a girl who had just been propositioned by Marcus Flint and I didn't really have time to jot any of it down. As one smart old bat once said, "Only good girls keep diaries. Bad girls don't have the time." And since just received top marks on Bimm's latest torture, am trying very hard to prove that I am still indeed a bad girl.  
  
Wish I could have some help from the "male" department in that one (mentally coughs and looks over at Adrian Pucey). Guess as one not so smart but equally old bat once sang, "You can't always get what you want..but if you try sometimes..you just might find..you get what you nee-eee-eed.."  
  
Damn it, a decent man should qualify as a "nee-eee-eed"!  
  
3:03 PM  
  
Have accepted my fate in the detention hall. At least it's a few more points towards the bad girl frequent flier and liar account.  
  
Moo gave me big hug and thanked me for trying to get her out of detention when I arrived. Would have found it sweet if was nicer person, but am not nice so was highly irritated. And hug added stackload of points towards good girl account. Merlin.  
  
Was so intent on plotting how to spectacularly derail reputation that was not paying any attention to where I was walking and where I eventually sat down. Right next to buff bronzed god himself, now safely covered in Quidditch uniform. But to cover up bathroom image of Oliver in my mind, would need a lobotomy, not tacky gold and scarlet tent.  
  
Is going to be a very long detention.  
  
Received detention task from McGonagall, which was to transfigure cat into saucer of milk. Said I disagreed with task since am vegetarian and opposed to any form of animal cruelty. McGonagall only smiled and said, "But Natalia, you are such a good student that I am sure "you" will not harm your creature. And I respect you for attempting to maintain your principles. Ten points for Ravenclaw."  
  
"Principles"? Shite, that sounds terrifyingly Gryffindor. Behind me can hear Malfoy sniggering. Won't be laughing when I figure out how to teleport Hermione's hair onto his floozy Pansy Parkinson's head, a la Neville Frogbottom zit incident.  
  
Come to think of it, may actually improve her.  
  
Was in process of transfiguring tabby into blue and white china saucer (after casting a sleeping charm on it so not to alarm little scratcher), when voice next to me whispered, "What are you here for?"  
  
Glanced to my left. His Woodiness was looking at me with friendly smile on face, causing heartbeat and any semblance of conversational skills to temporarily take sick leave. "I, uh, arrived late to McGonagall's class," I whispered back.  
  
"Of all teachers, eh?" Oliver responded, grimacing sympathetically. Realise sympathetic grimace far sexier than Snape's disdainful I-hate-the-world-and- all-Gryffindors-in-it grimaces. "Only thing worse would be a Gryffindor arriving late to Potions."  
  
In spite of self find myself smiling. "How about you?"  
  
"Punched Pucey in the face when that little slime asked me if I wanted to play hide-the-sausage," Oliver replied. "Sleazy little git. With my luck, Snape would have to be the teacher who walked into the hall just then. He hates all Gryffindors but he hates Scottish ones the most. Needless to say, I've been here three days in a row."  
  
He was smiling at me. Tend to prefer the scowlers but he really does have a nice smile. Hell, am I really getting mushy over a Gryffindor? Very bad for bad girl frequent flier points. "Well, I think that was a pretty shitty thing to do," I said, recovering some of my old style.  
  
"Come again?" Oliver blinked. Look of shock on his face is palpable. Hah, I bet he's used to women falling all over him.  
  
"Adrian was only trying to tell you that he liked you," I explained quietly, glancing behind me to make sure Malfoy was occupied. His saucer had claws and was scratching his knuckles raw. "I mean, if he was a girl and had done the same thing, you probably would have said "no" in a nicer way. So I think your reaction was unintentionally homophobic. You must have really hurt his feelings. I also think you owe him an apology. He's one of the nicer Slytherins."  
  
Jeez, I'm starting to sound like a Gryffindor!  
  
"Yeah, I guess I do," Oliver said, frowning slightly. Again, his frowns are infinitely sexier than Snape's. "Never considered myself to be homophobic, but now that you put it that way, well, thank you, Natalia."  
  
"Wood and Adani, this is not a group task," McGonagall called as she bustled past to help Malfoy with his angrily mewing saucer.  
  
"Sorry, Professor McGonagall," Oliver called back. We worked in a sort of alert silence for a few more minutes, then I whispered, "So, where's your fan club?"  
  
"You mean the Mary Sues?" Oliver asked and chuckled. "Dumbledore ended up having to call in the Auror's Guild to deal with them. It wasn't pretty."  
  
I laughed.  
  
"Adani, Wood, I'm warning you," McGonagall cut in. Turned around to apologise when catch Katie Bell glaring at me. Ooh, this has potential. Hitting on hot guy and pissing off rival in one fell move. Willing to overlook fact that guy is Gryffindor in order to accomplish this ploy. Forza Natalia!  
  
"Hey, Wood, how do you get handles on your saucer?" I asked loudly.  
  
"Miss Adani! Mister Wood! This is the third time I have had to speak to you today!" McGonagall huffed, causing her eyes to bulge unflatteringly. That woman needs some lipo pronto. "Detentions for you both! Wood, I'm surprised at you, and Adani, well quite frankly I'm learning not to be. You're a terrible influence!"  
  
Moo is looking pissed. Slytherins are looking impressed (well, it is pretty bad-arsed to land a detention "in" detention). And I'm back in the game.. 


	6. Raking

Author's Note: One poor reviewer has pointed out that she didn't understand some of the slang I use, so hence this brief crash course in British/American slang. It hopefully covers all I have used, some I may use. Review and tell me if I've missed some and being neither British nor American, if you are and I have used some incorrectly, or you know of some fun ones I haven't, please also let me know.  
  
RACHEL'S SLANG CRASH COURSE  
  
US = United States, Br = British  
  
Bird (Br) = term for a girl. Since males are the ones that tend to say it, usually (but not always) in reference to an attractive girl or a mate's friend, ie: "That's one fit bird" or "He's got himself a new bird."  
  
Bloke (Br) = a guy, and I'm sure everyone knows what guy means  
  
Crush (US) = to be infatuated with someone. Can be used in several forms, "Are you crushing on him?"; "Do you have a crush one him?"; "He's my crush."  
  
Do (US) = to sleep with, "do" someone  
  
Dodgy (Br) = describes someone (usually male) who is creepy, off-putting (Marcus Flint!), someone that you want to "dodge" around. Can also describe an action or thing  
  
Fancy (Br) = to like someone  
  
Fit (Br) = attractive, "hot" (US)  
  
Hot (??) = this one is confusing. To say a guy is "hot" is definitely a US term, but to have the "hots" for someone may be British. Could be something that has been borrowed and appropriated from the US  
  
Jerk (US) = an annoying guy. Not necessary a sexual reference but is derived from a term that is, which will I need an R rating in order to mention here (so I wont)  
  
Prat (Br) = same as jerk  
  
Screw (US) = to sleep with  
  
Shag (Br) = ditto  
  
Sketchy (US) = see "dogdy"  
  
Sleazy (US) = a dubious male, someone with a bad reputation ("sleaze" for noun)  
  
Tosser (Br) = annoying person, usually male (now isn't that strange?)  
  
Totty (Br) = a hot person "that's some way fit totty." I'm not sure but it may be in a derogatory manner, i.e.: "bimbo"  
  
Not being familiar with the US system, a conversation between Roger and Nat may be only a borderline PG-13 rating. Just a caution in case you're easily offended.  
  
Now where were we?  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry Six: Raking  
  
Natalia wears boots to detention and gets a real dressing down..  
  
8:53 AM, September 14th  
  
Have just found out that detention task with Oliver will be sweeping up leaves around the ground. Was looking forward to it until was told that we will not be able to use our wands, which means will actually have to work. Damn.  
  
On plus side, at Hecate's to "rake" someone meant to hit on him. Hopefully slang has crossed over the Atlantic to Hogwarts.  
  
9:46 AM  
  
Determined to make the best of bad situation. Have decided to wear new fitted v-neck camel sweater which leaves little to the imagination since will be bending down a lot, ha ha, and hipster jeans that will need a special stretching spell to struggle into. Have also successfully convinced self that black wedge boots are not most impractical thing in the world to wear for groundswork. Will hopefully mean a lot of falling over and a lot of Oliver catching me. He he.  
  
Forgot that Hagrid will be chaperoning us. Shite.  
  
10:32 AM  
  
Arrived outside of main entrance nice and early since may not be appropriate to arrive fashionably late to detention. After all, may not have such good company next time. Oliver and Hagrid not here yet, but Adrian Pucey is, wearing cords and a salt n pepper turtleneck with the neck scrunched up in a way to emphasise sideburns and cheekbones nicely. Never knew a gay guy who could look so ruggedly hot.  
  
"What did you do?" I asked, sidling up next to him and rubbing my hands in the cold.  
  
"You mean "who" did I do," he said, making a face. "This nice Hufflepuff boy the other night. How was I meant to know that he was only fifteen? He was big for his age."  
  
"For the sake of keeping my breakfast in my stomach, I will not ask you to clarify the last part of that statement," I replied. Adrian sniggered. "Are we the only ones that will come here today? I thought I was meant to be sharing detention with Oliver."  
  
"Don't tell me you have the hots for Wood too?" Adrian scowled. "I would have credited you with more originality, not to mention taste, than that, Natalia."  
  
Too late I remembered why Oliver had been in detention in the first place. "I don't like him," I said. "I'm just interested in screwing him. More to piss off Katie Bell than anything else."  
  
"Fair enough," Adrian shrugged. "If you ask me Davies is a better prospect. Don't know why you too aren't at it already, to be honest."  
  
"We're just friends," I told him.  
  
"Girl, things that look like that aren't meant to be used as friends. Find a nice Hufflepuff if you need one that badly. I could give you the name of mine if you want."  
  
"No thank you," I said quickly. "So, how did such a despicable and incorrigible sleaze such as yourself get a Hufflepuff to do the dirty with you?"  
  
Adrian laughed. To a Slytherin things like that are considered to be complements. Unless you were the one they were just hitting on, of course. "Oh, we Slytherins can be very nice when we think we can get something out of it. Too bad effing Bimms had to ghost through the wall while I was in the middle of getting something out of it. Although from what I hear of him, he may have quite enjoyed the show actually."  
  
"Roger caught him and Nearly Headless Nick in a cupboard on Tuesday," I added. "Except they'd forgotten to go the whole way through the door, so they were sticking out for everyone to see."  
  
Adrian doubled over in laughter. "The Gryffindor house ghost is gay? Effing Merlin, that is just a killer."  
  
"Yeah, I'm beginning to think I'm the only one left in this place who's straight. So who else is joining us?"  
  
"Wood and your house prefect, Penelope Clearwater," Adrian replied. A piercing shriek cut through the stillness of the cold mid-morning air. "That sounds like her now."  
  
Clearwater dashed over to us, her pinched face puffed up by what looked like the aftermath of the world's worst crying fit. "Oh dear Merlin, I can't believe I received a detention in this place," she wailed. "I must bear the ignominy of being the only prefect in this school to have been landed such a horrible blow since Melga Middlebrow in 1934. Oh, whatever will become of me? My poor university transcript-"  
  
"Stop your whining, Clearwater," Adrian said unceremoniously. 'I'm sick of your "I'll do whatever you need me to do, so long as it goes on my college transcript" goody-two shoes attitude. Does shagging Weasley go on that too, because it's about the only thing you seem to bother to do that doesn't."  
  
"But, but," Clearwater stammered, appealing to me, "as a fellow Ravenclaw and therefore a fellow intellectual, Natalia, surely you understand?"  
  
"Penelope, really, who gives a shit?" I asked. "Madga's Magical Muses Modelling Agency has had a contract reserved for me ever since I was twelve." Neglected to mention that Madga's had also asked me to lose weight. "I don't need education to fall back on. In fact, I've always considered schooling the route of those that have no natural intelligence and must fall back on the world of academia in order to validate their feeble brains. Which makes it all the more pathetic that I am leading you in class rankings."  
  
Penelope turned bright red.  
  
"If you want some misguided sympathy, go find a Hufflepuff," Adrian added. "Although I can't think of what "you" would do that would land you here. Oh," his face cleared as he looked at the castle entrance, "speak of the Gryffindor."  
  
A scrawny boy with a prefect's badge and a shocking thatch of red hair walked over to us. Now everything made sense. Miss Butterbeer-Wouldn't-Melt- In-My-Mouth Clearwater screwing an Interchangeable Weasle-y? No wonder poor girl is so secretive. If I was doing one of those I would certainly keep quiet about it.  
  
Have previously mentioned desire to steal Clearwater's boyfriend, but have now reassessed. Could never hate her that much.  
  
"Arr, hir we arr now," a coarse voice rambled from behind me. Turned to see Hagrid standing with Oliver, resplendid in a black turtleneck and simple black slacks. The latter of the two, that is. Bringing up the rear was Flint, looking very far from the same league as Adrian and Oliver in his bright yellow Fubu gear. He even had a medallion with the Slytherin emblem on it. "Now, dar sooner we git started, dar sooner we git done. Ahm gonna break yer into twos."  
  
Jeez, that sounded painful.  
  
"Now, arr, given why yer here, Mister Weasley, Ah must separate yer from Miss Clearwater for ah while," Hagrid continued. Interchangeable Weasle-y looked hopefully over at me. Adrian sniggered. "I want yer ter go with Mister Pucey."  
  
Interchangeable Weasle-y made a face. Penelope looked hopefully over at Oliver. Out of Hagrid's line of vision, Adrian was pretended to spank Flint in imitation of Clearwater and Interchangeable Weasley.  
  
"And Miss Clearwater, Ah will put yer with Mister Flint."  
  
Penelope's mouth dropped open. Flint winked at her.  
  
"Which leaves Mister Wood and Miss Adani together," Hagrid concluded. What an intellect, really can't see why he was expelled from Hogwarts. "Now Ah want der firs' two ter do dar front of der school, Miss Clearwater an' Mister Flint to do der edge of der Forbidden Forest, and der las' two ter do der back. Git to it arrveryone, an' we kin 'ave some nice warm pumpkin soup fir lunch."  
  
11:49 AM  
  
Oliver and I had been working solidly for over an hour. Wind wreaking havoc with hair. Earlier made enticing pile of leaves and commented on how comfortable it looked but Oliver just gave me blank stare. Damn Gryffindor honour.  
  
Raking frantically as worried that any more time in this wind will make me look like Hermione when from about three feet away Oliver spoke up. "Eh, Natalia?"  
  
Since last time had seen him, he was over the other side of the clearing, jumped and dropped rake. Noble Gryffindor would then have to bend down and pick rake up for me. Almost dropped it again when hands brushed against mine. Tempted to drop it again upon recalling what Oliver's arse looked like when he bent down over a pile of leaves earlier in the morning. "Yeah?"  
  
"What house are you in? I forgot to look at your badge when you were wearing your uniform in detention on Friday."  
  
"Ravenclaw," I replied, wondering why Oliver was finally asking me this now. Could it be Gryffindor equivalent of "Care to see my etchings?" And hadn't he asked me the same question that morning in the shower?  
  
Jeez, who am I kidding? I don't remember "anything" he said in the shower that morning. My attention was elsewhere. He was naked, for crying out loud!  
  
"How do you like it there?" he asked.  
  
"It's okay," I shrugged, pushing some leaves into a large sack. "Bit dull at times. Most of the time, really."  
  
"And what house do you want to be in?"  
  
Looked up from the sack to see Oliver standing with arms resting on rake handle and watching me levelly. Pulse turned from a marathon pace to a sprint. "Um, well, that's pretty obvious, don't you think? Slytherin."  
  
"Slytherin?" he repeated, looking surprised. "Why?"  
  
"Because Slytherin just seems to have more happening in it," I replied casually. "The others are too nice and boring for me."  
  
As soon as words out of my mouth, realised I had zero chance of making use of pile of leaves this afternoon. Oliver took chin off his arms and straightened up to give me long and not particularly friendly look. "So to you, "nice" equates "boring"?" he asked.  
  
"Well, yeah," I said in no-duh tone.  
  
Oliver dropped rake and abruptly turned back on me. Could see that he was trying very hard to keep temper. "If you really believe that, then I feel very sorry for you," he said eventually.  
  
"Yeah? Well try feeling sorry for yourself, you sexless Gryffindor," I spat back.  
  
Oliver marched out of the clearing, kicking his rake as he went. Guess his rake is one that hasn't been seeing as much action as Pucey's lately, for remark to hit home like that.  
  
Great, now have to sweep entire clearing by myself. And won't get laid.  
  
Interchangeable Weasle-y suddenly looks more appealing.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
4:09 PM  
  
Hurried back through halls to change into Quidditch uniform and attend first practice of the season before dinner starts. Bumped in Malfoy, who laughed at my hair until I decked him. In much better mood after that. Decking Malfoys really very good for improving temper, far more effective than a mere cup of coffee.  
  
Good mood lasted until first sight of uniform. What warped and sadistic mind came up with these? About as flattering as an ice hockey player's kit.  
  
4:21 PM  
  
Wobbled (yes, "wobbled," these uniforms are that bad) over to Quidditch pitch in time for the last dregs of Roger's team talk. Across the field Hufflepuffs were doing a cool-down routine. Of a kind. Now know that there is at least one team we will beat this season.  
  
Sat down in between Cho Chang and Alessandro Bombardino, a tough and sexy- looking sixth year. Too bad he plays Quidditch since "never screw the crew" rule is one of the few that I follow adamantly. "Nice of you to make an appearance, Adani," Roger said coolly.  
  
Started to rap out a rejoinder but thought better of it. He is captain after all, with power obviously going to his head. Best to humour him.  
  
"Last season we went into our final game against Gryffindor having a huge win against Hufflepuff and a narrow loss to Slytherin," Roger continued. "We ended up defeating the favourites Gryffindor and winning the Quidditch Cup on goal difference. However, that was only because their Seeker, Harry Potter, was in the hospital wing and they were a player short, and missing their best one at that." His voice dropped an octave. "Last year even Hufflepuffs were saying that we weren't the best team in the school, that we only won because we got lucky. This year, we want to put our worth beyond doubt."  
  
Wow, have never seen this side of Roger before. Since had last seen him staggering in at four AM on the eve of Snape's Potions Practical from Hell that even I had stayed in and crammed for, had assumed that best guy pal was incapable of anything other than frivolity. Glanced at Alessandro to see what his reaction was to this serious and rather scary Roger, but not for too long. Kind of afraid of what will happen if he catches me not paying attention, to be honest.  
  
"Now that those of you who are new to Hogwarts and came to practice on time," cue another scathing look in my direction, "know where we stand in terms of the competition this year, what position would everyone like to play? Chasers?"  
  
Malcolm Brocklehurst, a slender seventh year, raised his hand. Roger also raised his. "Obviously we need more than two Chasers. Someone's going to have to give. Keeper?" Alessandro Bombardino raised his hand. "Now Bombardino, I know you were the Keeper last year and you did a great job for us, but with both Mortimer and Quellings graduating last summer, I'd like you to play as a Beater for us. You have a good aim and you're strong, hell, you even have the surname to play as a Beater! I think you'll do a smashing job." Several younger players laughed at his pun. I rolled my eyes, but only subtly, as new fanatical Roger quite frightening.  
  
Cho still hadn't raised her hand.  
  
"Obviously, same thing goes for the Beaters as with the Chasers. We need one more," Roger continued. "Now we're a Keeper short. Vanessa Johnson? Excellent." He raised his head from his notebook (this is the biggest clue to how seriously he is taking all this, since I have "never" seen him take notes, even in class) and surveyed the rest of us. "Hmm, this should be interesting. Seeker?"  
  
I raised my hand. So did Cho. A couple of second years also made their interest clear.  
  
"Ah, the Harry Potter phenomenon," Roger said scornfully. "Well, as all four of you cannot play as the Seeker at once and we have an open Chaser and Beater spot, I think I will have to break some hearts."  
  
"With all due respect, captain, I've been playing Quidditch before Harry Potter even knew what it was," I cut in. "If you're looking for someone to bring experience to that position, then you've got yourself a Seeker."  
  
"I know all about the positions you have experience in, Adani," Roger said icily. Cho gasped and Alessandro tactfully averted his eyes. Felt tears prick at the backs of my eyelids. "And I will be the one who makes the decision when it comes to team selection. Bombardino, could you lead the team through a warm-up lap and then the Avery Dead Beater drill? Adani, a word."  
  
Rest of the team mounted their brooms and flew away, Cho giving me a shy, sympathetic smile before racing after Alessandro. Braced myself for another verbal assault and was very surprised when Roger put an arm around my shoulder. "Raking didn't go well today, did it?" he asked gently.  
  
"In both senses of the word," I replied.  
  
"That's too bad," he said, rubbing my shoulder as he spoke. I rested some of my weight on him but not too much, as Roger kind of skinny. "And I'm sorry about what I said just now, Nat. I had a rough night but that's no excuse to take it out on you."  
  
"Yeah, well it's what I should expect, isn't it?" I said, some bitterness creeping into my voice. "Double standards are alive and well and living in Hogwarts. A guy is a stud, a girl is a slut, that kind of thing. I mean, if it's okay for guys to have sex but not for girls, then who do the guys have sex with? Each other, if it's Hogwarts-"  
  
Roger gently pushed me off his shoulder to face him. All earlier hardness had gone out of his eyes. "Nat, I'm really sorry. I had no idea you cared so much what other people thought of you."  
  
"Well, now you know," I said, humiliated as my voice quavered slightly.  
  
"Nat, what you just said, I think it's all bull, and not just because I happen to like sleeping with girls. I'm sorry if you pay any attention to that kind of talk, and I'm sorry if I hurt you. Are we okay again?"  
  
I still felt angry with him until I saw the hurt and shame in his eyes. "Yeah, we're okay," I said eventually.  
  
Roger smiled a closed lip, self conscious smile, then reached over and gave me a hug. I hesitated for a minute, then hugged him back. "Right then," he said. "I just wanted to have a quick word regarding your role in the team. Now I know you're an excellent Seeker, but there's very little to choose from between you and Cho. We don't have to spend much time worrying about Ernie MacMillan from Hufflepuff, but Potter and Malfoy could give us some real competition."  
  
"So you're choosing raw talent over experience and know-how why?" I prompted.  
  
"Both Potter and Malfoy are small and quick," Roger continued. "Like Cho. She'll have an easier time keeping up with them. Sure, you'd be able to muscle them out of the way easily enough, but that won't do any good if they're too fast for you. You're one of the old-school defensive Seekers, bigger blokes whose job was to keep the opposition's Seeker off the Snitch for as long as possible and let their team build up a huge goal difference. But with broom technology improving and player getting smaller and faster, they're sort of a dying breed. Now, you're tall and strong-"  
  
"You mean fat," I said grumpily.  
  
"No, Natalia, I meant athletically built," Roger said with strained patience. "And if you're fat, it's only in the right places. See, my point, and I do have one, is that both you and Cho are excellent Seekers, but with Cho's build she can only really play in one position. You have the potential to be versatile." I watched him expectantly. "I want you to play as the second Beater."  
  
"A Beater?" I burst out. "You mean one of those great, blundering morons? Why the hell would you have me play as a Beater?"  
  
"I think you just answered your own question right there," Roger said triumphantly at my temper. I blushed. "You have heaps of experience and you can read the game, which is essential for a Beater. And you're aggressive to, as you just so accurately displayed. And you and Bombardino can give each other directions in Italian and the other teams won't have a clue what you're about to do. Plus, you can not only slam hard objects at Malfoy and Flint to your heart's content, you'll actually be encouraged to do so."  
  
Felt reluctant smile creep across my lips. "You know me too well."  
  
"That's the spirit," he said, slapping me companionably upon the shoulder. "Just think on it for a while for me, alright? Besides, you've been getting a bit antsy lately, Adani. I think you could do with a challenge."  
  
"I could do with something else," I muttered as I mounted my broom, "and it has nothing to do with Quidditch." And what made him think that my being antsy had anything to do with not being challenged? Does he know me at all?  
  
Come to think of it, hitting Bludgers around for an hour or so would be a great way of relieving my frustration (yes, that kind of frustration).  
  
Maybe Roger has point after all.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Okay, I know the ending is rather weak, but everyone's allowed a few off- days (smiles). 


	7. Oh brother!

Author's Note: Phew, where did everyone go? Anyway, this entry's pretty straightforward, a bit boring but I need it to go on to better things.  
  
Also I made a mistake in my first chapter intro, which says this story takes place in the three stooges third year. It takes place in the second. I'll correct that when I get time to do little things like that.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter and co, would like to borrow Roger Davies but would not return him in very good condition, causing his original owner to become very vexed. Natalia's jogging song is based on "Stuck in the Middle with you" by Stealer's Wheel.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry Seven: Oh brother  
  
Natalia receives a visit from an old friend who drops off something that could prove very useful to her..  
  
8:54 AM, September 16th  
  
Well, just had my first brush with "greatness" today, and do note the parentheses on a certain part of previous statement. They denote sarcasm. Lots of it.  
  
Bumped into You-Guessed-It and his two groupies, Her-Might-Be Grater and the Interchangeable Weasel-y outside the library. They never seem to leave his side. Apparently you don't need to be a rapper to have an entourage in this school, just not have the decency to die properly.  
  
Want my own entourage.  
  
11:04 AM  
  
Boring, boring, the Fat Friar is snoring, yes it's time for Binns' class again. On first day of term Roger told me how he came to be the only ghost teacher in the school, and within ten minutes of first class, could see how "he" would forget his body. Would forget his head if wasn't screwed on, wait, no longer has head since is completely missing a body...ha ha.  
  
No one would forget my body in a hurry.  
  
Actually, today's class wasn't so bad. Binns (alias Dim) was yawning on about Veelas, which been a siren and seductress of impressionable young men myself, I have more than passing interest in. Although to be honest, knew a girl in Italy who was part Veela and don't know what they have that I don't. Oh, who am I kidding, they're "made" to lure men to their deaths!  
  
"Professor," I began as Dim paused for breath (can't see why this so important to him since dead already), "so it therefore follows that if a Veela were to marry a wizard or a Muggle, she would then pass down her powers to any female offspring?"  
  
"Yes, that is correct, Miss Adani," Dim said loftily.  
  
Next to me Adrian Pucey sniggered for asking such an obvious question, but I was aiming for greater things. "So if a Veela was to have a male offspring, what would happen? Would he get her powers too?"  
  
"Well, Miss Adani," Dim drawled, removing his glasses and polishing them, "that is not known to me." Really believable that history professor does not comprehend much about Veelas, as would constitute knowledge of something related to sex appeal. Which Dim appears to have precious little of. "As you may know such cases of a Veela wedding a mortal man are few and far between. The last known incident occurred in 1962, and let me tell you that as far as happenings in "that" decade go," he sniffed with obvious disapproval, "it was one of the lesser remarkable."  
  
"That decade produced the sexual revolution," Adrian echoed, whispering under his breath to me, "which I'm sure you're aware of."  
  
Made mental note to cuff Adrian when Dim next turns back to blackboard.  
  
"But Professor," I persevered, "surely if a witch can't marry a Muggle and have a wizard son, then a Veela can have a male offspring with her powers?"  
  
"Yes, Miss Adani," Dim said with air of thinly-concealed-anyway-back-to-me impatience, "but being a Veela is something that is exclusively female."  
  
"In the same way that being a witch is also something that is exclusively female," I said triumphantly. "There are mermen. Why not male Veelas?"  
  
"You have raised a very interesting question today, Miss Adani," Dim acknowledged. Adrian sniggered again. "Perhaps you should consider looking it during your own time? Now, onto the Great Veela Frustration of 1396, which coincided with the Black Death and therefore a shortage of eligible males-"  
  
Ha! He hasn't made the connection. What a dumb-arse.  
  
"That was an interesting display," Adrian whispered to me with a smirk. "Are you sure you weren't meant to be in Ravenclaw?"  
  
Told him he could shut up right now and bowed over my scroll of notes.  
  
Adrian would not be put off. "So, does this sudden interest in seductive females mean that Hogwarts is getting to you too?" he grinned.  
  
God, sure hope not.  
  
3:41 PM  
  
Now getting changed for third Quidditch practice in as many days in Ravenclaw girl's dorm. Roger sure means business. Today a little strange as Fearless Leader requested that we not wear our Quidditch uniforms at all, but Muggle exercise clothes. Also (and this makes no sense) wants us to leave brooms behind.  
  
?????????????????????????????????????  
  
Anyway, Ravenclaw females clearly driving Roger insane. Will consider drastic steps for mercy lay if his temper does not improve soon.  
  
3:45 PM  
  
Collided with You-Guessed-It's stalker, Colin Creevey, in the hall. Now there's someone who needs more than a good roll in the hay. This is beyond my skill to heal.  
  
Besides, he's only eleven!  
  
3:51 PM  
  
Arrived in just enough time to avoid tongue-lashing. Normally quite like tongue-lashings, just not the type Roger had in mind.  
  
"Great to see everyone arrived on time today," he began, sending another significant look in my direction. He should watch wind doesn't change when he does that, or may end up looking like Flint. "You may have noticed I requested for you to leave your brooms behind, and be wondering why it is that I made that request."  
  
"No shit, Slytherin," I muttered.  
  
Roger sent me another sharp look. "The reason why I did this is that a fit team is an alert team, and an alert team does not make stupid mistakes. Therefore I have decided to make Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays team running days."  
  
My mouth dropped to Peru.  
  
Cho Chang raised hand apprehensively. "But Roger, we don't run during Quidditch," she explained in the gentle tone one uses for someone one fears is insane and highly volatile. And in dire need of a mercy lay. "We ride broomsticks."  
  
"Thank you for bringing that to my attention, Chang," Roger snapped. Cho's face fell. Remembering her tentative, sympathetic look on Saturday, caught her eye and gave her what hoped was a reassuring smile. But don't really "do" reassuring. "We do use our legs during Quidditch, for balancing, stretching forward, staying on our broomsticks and guiding direction when our hands are occupied. And don't fear that we will be doing this conditioning at the expense of our normal Quidditch drills. We will be meeting for a three hour training tomorrow morning to go through those."  
  
Fear? "Now" I'm feeling fear, buddy.  
  
"But if we have to get up that early we'll be tired for the rest of the day," Malcolm Brocklehurst protested. "I won't be able to concentrate in any of my classes, and this year I take my NEWTs."  
  
"The trick, Brocklehurst, when getting up early," Roger explained pleasantly, "is not to go to bed the night before."  
  
"Crazy," Alessandro Bombardino muttered.  
  
"Nah, just not getting enough," I muttered back.  
  
"I was talking about Davies, not you," he said. Shit, is it that obvious? Self-obsessed jerk. Must remind self not to hit Bludgers at own teammates during next game.  
  
"Alright then, everyone, the sooner we get started, the sooner we can start weight training afterwards," Roger clapped his hands. "Everyone, out to the front gate, then the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, then around the back of the school TWICE. Let's go!"  
  
"Roger," I hissed to him, "you do realise that one sign of a sexually frustrated person is the sudden need to exercise strenuously?"  
  
"Exactly, Nat, which is why I thought this experience would be good for you," the bastard replied cheerfully. "See you back here in an hour."  
  
4:16 PM  
  
Must. Keep. On. Moving. Legs.  
  
Only time feet have hurt so badly before was when just returned from marathon shopping session in Milan while wearing Manalo Blahnik stilettos.  
  
Am going to kill that skinny little bastard.  
  
Must. Make. Feet. Pick. Up. Off. The. Ground.  
  
Alessandro charged past me, carrying small second year on back. "Weight training," he called over his shoulder.  
  
And he thinks Rogers crazy.  
  
4:29 PM  
  
I know what I need, a jogging song! Like what they have in Muggle armies. And Muggle slaves used to sing songs while picking cotton, which their overseers thought were nice happy little Walt Disney soundtrack songs but in actuality were rebellious chants. Go slaves. Hmm, this slave could say plenty about "her" overseer. Something like, "Roger is really dumb/Because he made me go for a run-"  
  
Merlin, know I can do better than that.  
  
Okay, here goes...  
  
* * * * *  
  
NATALIA'S JOGGING SONG  
  
Well I don't know why I joined this house tonight  
  
I got a feeling that something ain't right  
  
I'm so bored I could snore off my chair  
  
And my heels can't get down those stairs  
  
Slytherins to the left of me, Hufflepuffs to the right  
  
Here I am stuck in the middle with you  
  
Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you  
  
And I'm wondering who it is I should do  
  
It's so hard to keep this smile from my face  
  
Because I just maimed Flint with my mace  
  
Slytherins to the left of me, Hufflepuffs to the right  
  
Here I am stuck in the middle with you  
  
Well I started off in New York now I'm stuck in Hogwarts help me now  
  
And I sent my owl to mamma with a letter that's saying, "Plee-ee-ease-ease- ease.  
  
Plee-ee-ease-ease-ease..."  
  
Trying to make some sense of it all  
  
And Rogers driving me up the wall  
  
Last night I slept on the common room floor  
  
Because Penelope started to snore  
  
Slytherins to the left of me, Hufflepuffs to the right  
  
Here I am stuck in the middle with you  
  
Well I started off in New York now I'm stuck in Hogwarts help me now  
  
And I sent my owl to mamma with a letter that's saying, "Plee-ee-ease-ease- ease.  
  
Plee-ee-ease-ease-ease..."  
  
And I'm wondering why I joined this house tonight  
  
I got a feeling Goyle just started a fight  
  
OWLs approaching but I just don't care  
  
And Gryffindors are meddling in my affairs  
  
Slytherins to the left of me, Hufflepuffs to the right  
  
Here I am stuck in the middle with you  
  
Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you  
  
Stuck in the middle with you  
  
Ravenclaw I'm stuck in the middle with you..  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Natalia, Natalia," someone called out to me. "Salut, Natalia!"  
  
4:41 PM  
  
Why do I always meet the most beautiful people while looking like total crap? Goes for girls as well as guys.  
  
Fleur Delacourt is only person in world who manages to be (a) totally gorgeous, (b) female, (c) not a potential screw (that should go without saying because of (b), but maybe not at this school), and (d) still friends with me. Well, technically, not considered competition because is part Veela.  
  
"I'm" not competition for "her," that is.  
  
"Ciao, Natalia," she said, leaning in to kiss me on both cheeks, but being very careful not to touch me as did so. Or assumedly smell me. "I am just een Ogwarts for ay visite mais I will ve retuning oo Beauxbatons dees evening. Ca va?"  
  
"Ca va very bad, as you can see," I said, gesturing towards my muddy, sweat appearance. "The food stinks, meaning it both smells and tastes bad, my house prefect is a cow, I've already had two detentions, there's no central heating anywhere in this place, my Quidditch captain is making me run three times a week, and since the only decent straight guy around is my best friend, I've haven't been laid since I got here. In other words, I'm fine."  
  
"Ooh, c'est tres mal," she said with only token attempt at sympathy. Fumed at this. "It ees foony vat oo last said oo me, since I thought oo would ve dee last girl oo would 'ave trouble in dat eepardment." There was hint of condescension in last part of sentence. See, this is why don't enjoy being friends with girls. Gets too competitive and petty.  
  
"So why are you here?" I asked, slightly rudely.  
  
"I am joost oocompanying my older brodeere oo Ogwarts," she replied. "E 'as decided on ay last minuite transfer 'ere oo improve ees English."  
  
Older brother? Older BROTHER? OLDER brother?  
  
Emphasised every part of last sentence because all are equally worthy of being emphasised. Oh brother. "And is there much of a similarity between you and him?" I whispered hopefully.  
  
"Ooh, peeopel say dat ve look like tweens," Fleur said breezily, oblivious to my salivating. Jumped as loud crash in clearing sounded, followed by crunching of leaves. "Dat vell ve heem now."  
  
Her equally gorgeous (if not more, because can appreciate him in way that could never appreciate her, and wonder why keep on feeling obliged to point out such things) sibling strode into the clearing, brushing leaves from his cloak. As he bent down to pull the tops of his boots up, caught glimpse down the front of his tie-front shirt. My own personal sanity took unpaid leave from work.  
  
Professor Bimms, I can answer your question now.  
  
"Luc, oo deed not oose de Floo Powdeire properly," Fleur scolded him, speaking English for my benefit. Is quite nice and considerate at times. Damn her. "Oo vill break your leg one of dese days."  
  
"I sneezed as I called out the destination," Luc protested. Unlike Fleur spoke English quickly and with only a faint trace of an accent. Obviously does not need to practice the tongue, but am still glad he came here. Perhaps could practice with my tongue. "I have had a cold for about a week now, which need I remind you, you gave me."  
  
As siblings enjoyed touching last quarrel, took the opportunity to observe Luc. Fleur's assessment not entirely correct, as two are alike yet unlike. Luc is basically an outdoor, warmer version of the pale-skinned, platinum- hued hair Fleur. Has tanned, almost olive, skin and thick wavy locks that are more of a golden brown than a blonde. His eyes and nose are similar to his sister's, but he possesses a square jaw and a cleft on his chin which nicely masculinise his features and give them a strength and vitality that Fleur's lack. He is about half a foot taller than Fleur, who is tall for a girl, which means he'll be able to tower over me and make me feel small and safe for once in my life, whoopee! And those shoulders. Don't ask me what thoughts those shoulders give me...  
  
"Anyvay, oo are late for your appointerment vith Professeire Dumbeldoer, and I 'ave spent twontee minutes loooking fere oo," Fleur concluded. "By de vay, dis ees my friend Natalia, oo I vent to bearrding schoo vith en Italie."  
  
"Bonjour," Luc turned to me. And smiled. Unable to force motor skills to do anything else, I nodded. "As my sister so "nicely" pointed out, I am late for my appointment with the head of your school. What is the way to his office?"  
  
"Front door, to the left," I said with a dry throat. "Password's "Tutti- Fruit"."  
  
"Thank you," he beamed, then turned on his heel and dashed in the direction of the castle. "Hope to see you soon, Natalia."  
  
With Luc's significant presence removed, could now think normally. And move. And breathe. "Wow, he is something," I sighed. "How much older is he than you?"  
  
"Oo yearhs. Ee vill ve ay soventh 'ear dis 'ear," Fleur said mildly, then an impish grin formed on her effing perfect mouth. "So, oo I take eet dat my brodeere vill emprove your time at 'Ogwarts?"  
  
"Oh, most definitely," I said. "Best Christmas present I've ever had." Then a horrible thought occurred to me. Not that it's necessarily a horrible way to be, but situation-wise not good for me. "He isn't, you know, is he?"  
  
"Oo mean omosexualle?" Fleur asked. "Non, non, mais non. My brodeere ees de last boy oo would ve dat vay. Now vile I'm 'ere, is dere anyting else I can dew for oo?"  
  
"Well, actually there is," I began, "and I think you might quite enjoy it. You see, my Quidditch captain, my male and straight and very attractive Quidditch captain, has been a bit out of sorts lately.." 


	8. Ooh la la, bebe

Disclaimer: As mentioned in previous entry (disclaimers apply to all entries), I don't own Roger Davies and Co. Luc Delacourt, however, is mine, all mine (reaches under bed and pulls out whips and chains)...  
  
This one could be potentially rated "R" for a sexual term used. So sorry...  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry Eight: Ooh la la, bebe  
  
Natalia does her bit to build up trans-English Channel relations and Roger Dodger is once again in a good mood, but watch this space...  
  
7:02 AM, September 17th  
  
No early morning Quidditch practice. Whoopee!  
  
Reason for this being Roger staggered into girls' dorms after ten last night, hair mussed adorably and third button of shirt through fifth hole. Because is Ravenclaw prefect (the one who isn't Penelope Clearwater, therefore the nice and cool one who doesn't do a lot of prefecting, the best kind), knows password to girls' dorms, but this did not stop Clearhead harping on about house rules and upholding house reputation.  
  
Have a few choice words regarding "her" reputation but quite like her method of upholding our house's, just not with a Weasley...  
  
"Roger," I said as he stood swaying in the doorway, "what's up? You look terrible."  
  
"Funny that," he slurred. And giggled. "I don't feel terrible. I feel pretty bloody brilliant actually. Just used. Up. Completely."  
  
"Oh?" I raised one eyebrow.  
  
"Met your friend Fleur at dinner. Capital girl." Now this should be a complete tip-off, as Roger would not normally lower himself to saying such words as "capital." "Anyway, I just came to tell you that I've decided not to have the early morning practice tomorrow. I saw Cho, Vanessa and Malcolm in the common room, but I haven't spoken to Bombardino yet."  
  
"Oh?" I repeated innocently. "What, or should I ask "whom," changed your mind?"  
  
"Let's just say I can be persuaded away from some things, as long as I agree with the method used," Roger yawned.  
  
"This is an outrageous," Clearhead huffed. "Even a male prefect should not be allowed to enter the females' dorms, unless it is in a moment of dire emergency."  
  
"I consider potentially avoiding a needless four-thirty wake up call to fit into the "dire emergency" category," I snapped. "And Penelope, given why you were at detention last Saturday, I'd say you spent a lot of time in Percy's dorm, which breaks two rules, being in the male dorms and being in another house's common area."  
  
Penelope snapped big mouth shut.  
  
Yes, do know school rules inside and out. I believe in knowing what I'm up against.  
  
Roger's head started to nod. "Thank you, Nat," he yawned. "And can you be a doll and go tell Bombardino that his presence won't be required tomorrow morning? He's off huffing some Hufflepuff and I'm too tired to track him down."  
  
Told him to come and sit down before he dropped. Roger yawned "alright" and staggered over to my bed, then collapsed on it and promptly fell asleep.  
  
"A male student in the female Ravenclaw dormitories?" Clearhead gasped. "This is awful. Whatever can we do with him?"  
  
"Thought "you" might have a few ideas," I muttered.  
  
"What was that?" Clearhead gasped.  
  
"Nothing. I could always sleep in the guys' dorm," I amended myself hopefully.  
  
"You will do no such thing," she fumed. "He's too big for us to carry back and if we do people will know he's been in here, and oh - my poor transcript!" ("Get a grip," I told her.) "He'll just have to stay in here for the night. You're to top-and-tail."  
  
"You mean a sixty-nine?" I brightened.  
  
"No, I mean when he sleeps with his head down one head of the bed and you sleep with "your" head down the other," Clearhead corrected me icily. Aha, so she "does" know what a "sixty-nine" is!  
  
"Uh, Penelope, have you smelt his feet recently?" I asked. "Perhaps if you're so keen on the idea, "you" should top-and-tail with him." About time snotty little cow got to know her fellow prefects better. Other than Percy, that is.  
  
"Er, well, you can sleep in your usual manner," Clearhead wavered ("Usual" manner? I can? Woo hoo! Don't think that's what she meant though, although we are talking about Penelope-I'm-shagging-a-Weasley-Clearwater). "After all, I'm here to make sure nothing goes wrong."  
  
Snorted and started pulling on edge of duvet, so that Roger would go with it and would not have to sleep on edge of mattress all night with snoring captain taking up whole bed. "Aren't you going to find Alessandro and tell him that your morning's training is off?" Miss Acidity barked behind me.  
  
"Nope," I mumbled and sunk onto bed next to Roger. Let bastard stew.  
  
7:17 AM  
  
"Wiggler."  
  
"Snorer."  
  
"No, I'm not."  
  
"Yes, you are."  
  
So began first of many daily sparring matches, whispered so that Clearhead (now rather frightening Bedhead) across room would not wake up, Dodgy Roger lying on top of covers, yours truly underneath.  
  
"I'm not a snorer," I insisted. "I'm a light sleeper. If I snored I'd wake myself up. So it's impossible."  
  
"That's what they all say," he said smugly. "'I'm too much of a lady to snore,' and 'But I would "never" snore!' Since when were you a lady?"  
  
"Well, I've never had any complaints about snoring before," I grumbled. "And if you go around telling anyone I did, well, next game there'll be a Bludger with your name on it. Besides, I bet Pucey told you to say that to me."  
  
Roger propped himself up on elbow and stared down at me. "Why would Pucey think we'd ever be in a situation where I would be able to find out whether or not you snore?"  
  
"Dunno," I shrugged. "More likely you than him, I guess."  
  
"Point taken," Roger said.  
  
9:09 AM  
  
Don't know why am so effing excited.  
  
Fact that now in Ravenclaw, not Slytherin, is proof of Sorting Hat's sick sense of humour. Will probably put sexy new tall tanned handsome shaggable older foreign student into Hufflepuff, not Ravenclaw, or even worse, Gryffindor...  
  
9:41 AM  
  
Why must Gryffindor get all the hot guys? Why? It just isn't fair.  
  
Have House Cup. Have best Quidditch team in school. Have Oliver Wood. Have You-Guessed-It and enough other selflessly heroic individuals to make me sick. And now will have Luc Delacourt...  
  
Why is it always about "them"?  
  
Hate Gryffindor.  
  
12:03 PM  
  
Arrived at lunch in hellish mood. Look, I know I am always in Hellish mood, but this was even more Hellish then usual. We're talking bottom rung of Dante's Inferno here, "Inferno" being the epic work on where bad people go when they die and the naughtiest ones being placed the closest to the fires of Hell.  
  
Think I'm burning up.  
  
"Bonjour, cheerful," Roger said as slid onto bench next to him.  
  
Gave Roger my best look. Why of all greetings did he say "Bonjour?" If wanted to be cute would have said "Ciao" since I am Italian. Bet he knows about Luc Delacourt being put into Gryffindor, smug bastard.  
  
"So Natalia walks into the Great Hall and her best friend asks, 'Why the long face?'" Roger grinned. Refused to reply. "Seriously, bella, what's cooking?"  
  
Muttered that did not want to talk about it and dumped potatoes onto plate.  
  
"Well, since you asked, my day has been going absolutely fine," Roger continued. "I am now third in fifth year academic ratings. Snape gave me a complement today, which was a very worrying and disturbing moment. Professor Trelawney predicted that I would be beheaded next week, then hanged. An attractive French seventh year wants to be our third Chaser. Pucey put a frog under-"  
  
"Wait," I jerked upright. "Go back to the part about the attractive Fr - I mean, our new Chaser."  
  
"Well, this bloke just arrived yesterday and got sorted into Ravenclaw," Roger explained. "Played Chaser for five years on his school's Quidditch team. Wants to play for ours. He also captained it for the last two years, but he's completely clear on how as the newbie he'll be under my command. Still, it should be good for the team to have another veteran around." He took a pensive bite of his apple. "Wonder if he knows Fleur?"  
  
"Uh, you may not want to let on exactly "how" well you know Fleur," I suggested delicately. "He's her brother. Older brother."  
  
Had pleasure of watching Roger choke on apple.  
  
"And I also think that with our new Chaser, we should have as many practices as possible," I added. "Especially morning ones, because then I can see what he looks like when he first wakes up - to practice hard at Quidditch. But we need more in general so that I can look more at - how much he needs to improve his game..."  
  
Roger was giving me queer look. Speaking of queer (in every way possibly interpreted), Adrian had just sat down at Slytherin table.  
  
"Bonjour, Natalia," a deep, musical voice spoke up from behind me. "I was hoping to find you here." Luc looked down at my badge and (hopefully) my breasts. "So I see you will be in Ravenclaw with me this year?"  
  
Roger was staring saucer-eyed at the pair of us.  
  
"Yes, welcome to the realm of the bored and boring," I sighed. "Which category do you fit into?"  
  
"The bored, I hope," Luc replied. "Did you see Fleur before she left? I was hoping to have a word with her about something, but she disappeared after dinner."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "I didn't see her after dinner either. Roger, do you have any idea what she might have been doing?"  
  
Ashen-faced, Roger shook head. Will have a lot of fun this Quidditch season, mwahh ha ha.  
  
"Have you met my sister?" Luc asked.  
  
"Not really," Roger squeaked. I covered a smile with my hand. Luc looked at him with narrowed blue eyes. "I mean, I mean-"  
  
"He "saw" her, but they didn't talk much," I supplied. "Didn't you, Roger?"  
  
"N-n-nin-nin-no," Roger stammered. Almost pitied him, then remembered yesterday afternoon run, which resulted in meeting close friend and nemesis in less than usual gorgeous state. Bastard. No one makes me look bad. In both senses of word.  
  
So the scene is set. Flirting successfully with sexy French garcon and making best friend sweat in process. In other words, everything going better than planned.  
  
And then, and then...  
  
Ooh, it still pains me to mention it...  
  
EFFING ADRIAN PUCEY WALKED OVER, SLINGED ARM AROUND MY SHOULDERS, KISSED ME FULL ON THE LIPS AND BREATHED, "HELLO, DARLING."  
  
The shame.  
  
"So," the smug bastard turned to a flabbergasted Luc, "I take it you've met my girlfriend?"  
  
IwillkillhimIwillkillhimIwillkillhim...  
  
"Quoi?" Luc blinked.  
  
"Damn right, 'what'?" Roger had leapt off the bench and was brandishing his apple core threateningly. "Natalia is my "girlfriend." Who the hell are you?"  
  
"Her boyfriend, you interloping bastard!" Adrian cried.  
  
"Take that, you Slytherin scum," Roger roared and threw his apple core at him. Adrian grabbed a bun. "Er, well, I think I will go now," Luc said, walking off with a very confused expression on his face.  
  
AdrianwillhavecompanyAdrianwillhavecompany... 


	9. Surrrrprissssssse!

Author's Note: Well, it's been a while, courtesy of a nasty stomach virus and still nastier university assessments, but I'm glad you're still with me. Last I checked this had 20 reviews, which I was really floored by, so thank you to everyone who has ever reviewed. I'd really like to thank those who have read my baby without reviewing too (geez, I'm beginning to sound like Gwyneth Paltrow, *sob* *sob*), but how can I know whether you've read or not if you don't review, silly ;-). High on anti-nausea tablets, high on anti-nausea tablets....  
  
Disclaimer: Well, I once heard of this rock radio station in New Zealand who had twenty-seven complaints for swearing in one year, with twenty-six of those made by a reverend who listens to this station all day hoping to catch the DJs out. So my point is (and I do have one) is that some people really do care about these kinds of things. So I do not own Harry Potter and co. Happy now? (Reverend switches off computer and goes back to listening to the Rock).  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry Nine: Surrrrprissssssse!  
  
The Ravenclaw Quidditch team gets a long overdue wake-up call.  
  
3:58 PM, September 18th  
  
Preceding twenty-eight hours have been hell.  
  
Still fuming over Roger and Adrian completely ruining my chances with Luc Delacourt and making complete fool out of me in process. At time was paying most attention to two collaborators collapsing against each other and howling with laughter, but vaguely remember Cho Chang very, very sensibly prising my knife out of my fist.  
  
Adrian has now taken to skipping around and chanting, "I've got girl germs, I've got girl germs."  
  
If only it was trollpox...  
  
4:12 PM  
  
Now am very, very late to Quidditch practice. Roger's wrath is preferable alternative to arriving early and thus having to explain to Luc why have two boyfriends. Particularly one who is gay.  
  
Perhaps Roger still in good mood from Fleur Delacourt mercy lay?  
  
4:16 PM  
  
Have been landed with job of collecting Bludgers after practice. Nope, mercy lay inflicted good mood apparently worn off.  
  
"This is atrocious!" Roger roared at five bemused Ravenclaws and one closet Slytherin. "This is the second time a player has been late to my practices!"  
  
"Eh, Davies?" Alessandro Bombardino hesitantly raised one hand. "If I may, it was Adani who arrived late both of those times."  
  
"And you are not to single out one of your teammates," Roger turned on him. "We win as a team, we lose as a team. If one of us arrives late to practice or makes a crucial error in a game, we take responsibility as a team. You can't cop out when it suits you, Bombardino. Which is why I am adding an extra half-hour onto practice tonight. For everyone."  
  
Malcolm Brocklehurst groaned. Several angry pairs of eyes harpooned me. Great, just great.  
  
"Roger," Cho began, "I think the reason why Natalia arrived late to practice is that she may have been embarrassed yesterday when she was talking to Luc-"  
  
"-Trying to seduce Luc-" Alessandro interjected sullenly. I kicked him.  
  
"-and you and Adrian Pucey from Slytherin showed up and pretended to be her boyfriends."  
  
"Oh, c'mon," Alessandro snorted. "Really, who would have fallen for that one?" Luc was looking down at his shoes. "I mean, Natalia can't even manage to find one boyfriend, let alone two." He wimpingly scooted along the bench he was sitting on before I could kick him a second time. Hufflepuff.  
  
"Which is exactly my point, Cho," Roger said excitedly. "I was as responsible for Natalia being late today as she was. No one is "ever" singularly responsible for anything in a team situation. Remember that, plural responsibility!"  
  
"Stark raving," Alessandro muttered. As much as I dislike him, is the one Ravenclaw other than Roger who is the slightest bit interesting.  
  
"That's right, Bombardino, it's time to start playing," Roger said with the ecstatic disillusion that only the completely and thoroughly insane can manage. "With our first game next Friday, it's time we got our act together."  
  
Six jaws collectively fell to the floor. "You're joking," Malcolm Brocklehurst breathed.  
  
"I most certainly am not. This year to get everyone excited about the start of the Quidditch season, the school has decided to try something new. They will feature an opening game two weeks prior to the commencement of the season with the defending champions, that's us, playing this years favourites - who, incidentally, is everyone's least favourite house. No, not Gryffindor, Natalia. Slytherin."  
  
Several cries of dismay were heard. "Those new broomsticks of theirs?" Vanessa Johnson blinked. "Oh my god."  
  
"Now, now, you can't buy talent, although apparently you can buy your way onto a Quidditch team," Roger continued, rolling his eyes. "Now I don't want anyone to get too excited over this. As it's not officially part of the season, it won't be counted towards the Quidditch Cup. We're playing for nothing but pride." His eyes burned obsessively. "Which is a VERY BIG DEAL."  
  
"Eh, steady on now," Malcolm began apprehensively.  
  
"Malcolm, with all due respect, if you aren't as excited as I am over this, then you really shouldn't be in the same place as me," Roger said.  
  
"You mean, he should be on the "outside" of the Azkaban Intensive Care Psychiatric Ward?" I quipped. Cho giggled. Really starting to like that girl.  
  
Not in "that" way, you sick bastard.  
  
"I mean," Roger was getting really worked up, "can you name one thing that makes you feel as mind-blown, as excited, as aroused, as invigorated, as intoxicated, as spun out as Quidditch?"  
  
"Well, I do have something in mind," I began.  
  
"All you women ever think about is chocolate!" Malcolm burst out.  
  
"Chocolate?" Alessandro blinked.  
  
"Well, I was thinking of something completely different," I smirked, "but now that you mention it, chocolate would go extraordinarily well with what I "originally" had in mind." Caught Luc staring at me and blushed. Alessandro sniggered.  
  
Really, really need that thing that goes with chocolate...  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Author's Note Part Two: Okay, a bit on the short (and lame) side but I only had an hour or so to grind this up. Hopefully with lecturers willing, some more will be on the way soon.  
  
Not willing in that way, you sick bastard ;-) 


	10. Supremo Slytherin Humiliation

Author's Note: For those not familiar with British slang, "flipping the bird" has something to do with a certain raised finger. And if you don't know what gesture I'm talking about, then you're really far too young, or pure, or both, to be reading this fic ;-). Also I'm not actually sure what Warrington's first name is but I've seen it as "Carl" in some other fics, so that's the one I'm going by.  
  
This chapter is also an "R" rating for implied sexual acts. Well, it could probably pass as "PG-13," but just to be on the safe side...  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't own them, don't own them. Adrian Pucey, however, has run off with a pair of my undies. Prat.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry Ten: Supremo Slytherin Humiliation  
  
Natalia gets offered a job in media and shamed by Slytherins both on and off the Quidditch field.  
  
6:52 AM, September 26th  
  
Well, it's finally here. The day of reckoning. For Slytherin, that is.  
  
Have been kept mental with last-minute Quidditch training and enough scrolls of Potions homework to successfully stuff Penelope Clearwater's bra (Snape not doubt anticipating impending house defeat), but post-practice body is now beginning to hurt in good, satisfied (not agonising) way - the way I feel after my "favourite" form of calorie-burning (it's not Quidditch) - and last I checked was second in Potions. And unlike some others I could mention, did not have to flutter eyelashes at Snape to get to that position.  
  
Eww.  
  
8:04 AM  
  
Accosted by Marcus Flint on way to Great Hall. School rules permit houses to wear team slogan t-shirts on match days, and he was wearing a "Slytherin Rules" t-shirt which flashed to "Slytherin Shaggers are Second to None" when teachers were absent from sight.  
  
Think will have a very, very difficult time keeping down breakfast this morning.  
  
"So, Natalia," he smirked, "if we win tonight will you go to bed with me?"  
  
"No, but you can go someplace else for me," I retorted. "Now if you excuse me, I need a decent breakfast in order to open a can of whup-arse in your face on the pitch and looking at your ugly mug is enough to make me turn anorexic."  
  
"That would be a pity, in your case" Flint grinned. "Apparently the first place birds lose weight from is their rack."  
  
"What was that?" I asked with quiet menace.  
  
"Is there a problem here?" I heard an intriguingly-accented voice ask. Luc Delacourt was standing behind us, with one hand propped threateningly, alluringly, on his hip. The other was clutching his wand.  
  
"Yeah, the toad in green," I snapped.  
  
"Interesting," Luc said, raising his wand higher. "You do realise what we do with frogs in my country?"  
  
"Think I'll best be going now," Flint mumbled and walked quickly off. Luc fluidly waved his wand in the direction of Flint's departing back, transforming "Slytherin Shaggers are Second to None" to "Slytherin Snakes Suck."  
  
"That was a good one," Luc chuckled. He does have very nice chuckle, a warm one that sort of catches in his throat. "It should keep him occupied for the rest of the day trying to figure out why people are laughing behind his back, although I get the impression that is what happens to him on most days. And did you get the "Snakes Suck" reference? I think I just made my first pun in English."  
  
With that he walked off. Like a hurricane really, brief but leaving a trail of devastation in its wake.  
  
8:53 AM  
  
Roger collapsed giggling next to me in Transfiguration. Had spotted Flint in hallway and managed to add "Each Other" to his shirt.  
  
Perhaps should give it to Adrian as Christmas present.  
  
12:19 PM  
  
Wolfed down quick lunch and then rushed off to library to meet Roger and Adrian and ground out Potions assignment. Roger was explaining what happens when placid herbs were crossed with volatile when my earlier saviour walked into the room, rendering me temporarily death to Roger's rantings. "Will ya look at that?" I breathed to Adrian.  
  
"I'm looking," he responded.  
  
"And so if you add taproot to witch hazel, you get-" Roger broke off when he saw the dazed expressions on my and Adrian's faces, then turned to the door to see what had caused this trance. "I have got to find some friends who don't fancy blokes," he scowled.  
  
"Cupcake, given what you see when you look in the mirror every morning, I think the chances of accomplishing that are nigh-on impossible," Adrian said, causing me to crack up. Roger's scowl deepened.  
  
"For Merlin's sake, he's just an above-average Chaser with an European accent and a hot sister-"  
  
"And he's also part Veela," Adrian finished smugly. "And you, poor deprived being, can never appreciate that side of him in the way Nat and I can."  
  
"For which I am bloody grateful," Roger snapped. "Merlin, if all Slytherins take after you, Pucey, is it any wonder wizarding families had to marry Muggles in order to prevent themselves from dying out?" I howled with laughter. Roger smote me with what was becoming a trademark glare of his.  
  
Maybe Roger needs to get some too.  
  
"Yes, that's right, Roger," I teased. "Carry on the family name. Do your bit to contribute to the wizarding population. Just like a noble, dutiful Gryffindor. Perhaps if you're really lucky, you may even marry a Weasley. Ginny is looking pretty cute these days." Adrian slammed his palm onto the table in an I-can't-take-this-anymore laughing fit. Roger flipped the bird at us and sunk mutinously behind his Encyclopaedia of Potions. Our laughter increased.  
  
1:45 PM  
  
In order to prepare for the bloodbath that is a Quidditch match involving houses other than Hufflepuff, school finished two hours early, giving self chance to prep in bedroom. After debacle in which pretended to be my boyfriend, Adrian has become quite sympathetic to my lack of luc(k) with Luc (please ignore very uncool attempt at pun). Even spends time browsing through Potions manuals looking for infatuation brew for me to make. A bit offended by that since do not consider self to need any dietary supplements in order to attract the less-fair and most-unfair gender, but then have never attempted to coucher a French part-Veela before!  
  
"Adrian," I began as he rifled through my underwear drawer (don't ask), "for the ten thousandth time, why are you doing this? I mean, you Slytherins aren't particularly renown for your lack of self-consideration."  
  
"Because I have come to the conclusion that even with my considerable charms, I cannot sway Luc Delacourt in my direction," Adrian replied, distastefully dropping a faded jog bra to the floor. "Therefore I have resigned myself to living out a relationship with Hogwarts' Divine One through you. If you and Delacourt ever hook up, you will give me every salacious detail, won't you?"  
  
Dream on, I thought. Outwardly, I responded, "Just because "you" couldn't try anything on him doesn't mean he's not gay, you know."  
  
"And just because "you" haven't exactly had noteworthy success in your efforts, doesn't mean he's not straight, you know," Adrian retorted.  
  
"I thought I had sneaked you in here to be supportive and reassuring," I griped.  
  
"Ah, but that behaviour would be contrary to everything my house stands for," Adrian grinned. "You know how Clearhead's always harping on about house values? Thought I would pay attention to her for once. Speaking of houses, you do realise you're going to get totally and utterly demolished in an hour, don't you?"  
  
"It must be wonderful to be so delusional," I sighed with mock sympathy.  
  
"I don't know, you tell me," Adrian quipped.  
  
"Adrian, I'm still not sure of the necessity of you picking out my underwear for me this afternoon," I cut in, trying to ignore the fact that was being totally done under in one-liner contest. "How do I know you haven't run out of g-strings and are using this as an excuse to swipe mine on the sly?"  
  
"Because I am much too, shall we say, "gifted," to ever squeeze into anything you may own," Adrian smirked. Delusional, I tell you, completely. "And I wouldn't be caught dead in those things. They're so David Beckham. Anyway," he held up a black Wonderbra, "this will be perfect."  
  
What is bastard thinking? "Do you realise how uncomfortable it is to play in those things?" I ask him. "Actually, forget I ever asked that. I'm afraid of what the answer may be. And I really don't know why I'm asking a gay guy for advice on female attractiveness."  
  
"Because I'm in the know," Adrian beamed. "I'm privy to all the changing room gossip, Adani, although to be quite honest I don't know what all the fuss about particular female assets is about. They're just two lumps of fat to me. Incidentally, changing room gossip reveals that Flint is quite taken with you-"  
  
"I'd rather not know-"  
  
"-And to be completely crass, quite taken with the thought of "taking" you- "  
  
At this point put hands over ears and stating singing. Wish I really was the delusional one at such times.  
  
"Now be a good girl and put this on," Adrian said, holding the satin torture contraption out to me.  
  
"Turn away first," I demanded.  
  
"Natalia, I'm gay," Adrian said, giving me an odd look, "although to be completely honest with you, it has been a Slytherin tactic in the past to pretend to be gay in order for us to get a gander of things we may not otherwise be fortunate enough to witness. Hoping to be let into the girl's changing rooms (although it can't have been Slytherin's given the shrews we're always landed with), Carl Warrington kept it up for three years until I finally got sick of his posturing and tongued him at dinner one night. Stupid git pulled away screaming, which completely blew his cover since I was widely thought of being the most gorgeous bloke in our year." As if to make his point, Adrian turned away so I could struggle into the thing. "Although why you bloody women subject yourselves to this kind of thing, I don't know. You're all effing loony."  
  
"Because men like them," I reply through gritted teeth.  
  
"I don't," he retorted.  
  
"Don't get me started on you," I said and started to put the awful thing on. Wire in bra has bite to rival gnomes when heaving them out of the garden. And it would be the wrong time of the month to wear it too.  
  
"You've got it on all wrong," Adrian said impatiently. "You're meant to lean forward and fall into the effing thing."  
  
"You really know far too much about girls' underwear," I told him. "It's quite disturbing."  
  
"Shut up and lean forward," he insisted, standing behind me. Obliged and suddenly felt his hands tugging on the edge of bra, trying to arrange me. At that moment door burst open with a very shocked Vanessa Johnson on the other side.  
  
"Natalia, Roger just wanted me to tell you that we meet in fifteen minutes- " she began, then broke off abruptly. Her face split into a wide grin. "I knew it! Angelina said that if any girl in this place could convert him, it would be you! You've done womankind a great service today, Natalia. In my estimation you just went up a notch!" She gave an excited squeal and ran down the hall.  
  
"Effing Merlin, I've got a lot of explaining to do," Adrian muttered after a moment of mutual mute horror.  
  
"You and me both," I told him.  
  
Hope Luc doesn't hear about this.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
2:30 PM  
  
Made it to Quidditch stadium where cluster around Ravenclaw changing room door awaited. Attempted smile at Ravenclaw's very own part-Veela and got shot down majorly with Snape-like scowl. Yep, Luc has heard about it. Roger was trying not to laugh. Bombardino didn't even bother.  
  
Was willing self not to skin Beater team-mate with pointed tip of wand (and reminding self that he is team-mate after all, thus need willing and able for the match, in same way as would like Luc willing and able in areas not remotely related to Quidditch), when felt a tug on my uniform sleeve. A tiny but utterly adorable boy with dreadlocks was smiling up at me.  
  
"Greetings, introductions and amenities," he said with a flourish and one of those gorgeous public-school accents ("private-school" to all the sane non-British people who like to make sense with their language), "I am Lee Jordan, Gryffindorian and match commentator. I take it you are the lovely Natalia?"  
  
"Some of the time," I said. "If you feed me chocolate frogs and try not to cross me. Other times I'm just plain Natalia, which may be far too much for you to handle, little man."  
  
"Ah, the legendary Adani wit," Lee smiled. "And I do take it as a compliment that "you" called me a man, although I will ignore the prefix and pay attention to only the suffix of that statement." If you like, shortie. "Although I don't think you could be anything remotely close to plain. However, I have travelled far and wide to ask if, during the matches that do not involve Ravenclaw, you would do me the honour of being my co- commentator."  
  
"What's in it for me?" I asked suspiciously. Am generally not good with favour requests, unless they're those kinds of favours.  
  
"Well, basically you get to kick back all day in one of the prime viewing spots," Lee began, "satisfy any attention-seeking urges you may have by making outlandish comments into a microphone, thus forcing people to listen to you and take attention away from the players, make fun of Draco Malfoy, comment on the attractiveness of each team, make fun of Draco Malfoy, and occasionally report on the status of the game-"  
  
"Alright, I'm sold," I cut him off. "See you for the season opener."  
  
"Thank you, my dear," he purred, then surprised me by leaning forward and kissing my hand. "It's a date then." He winked and sauntered off.  
  
"Wow," I said to Cho next to me, "I'm speechless."  
  
"Wonders may never cease to exist," Roger snapped from behind us. "Now if you don't mind, could you please stop flirting with the homunculus and come inside for some last-minute game-play adaptations? In case you've forgotten, we have a team to destroy."  
  
"Hey, good going ensnaring Jordan," Adrian called as he walked by on his way to the Slytherin changing rooms. Luc's eyes narrowed into disdainful little slits. "He may be on the short side, but what he lacks in height he more than makes for in other aspects of his personage-"  
  
"Yes, he's an absolute sweetie," Vanessa sighed. "His personality just shines through."  
  
"Actually," Adrian said with a slight sneer, "I was referring more to his being nicknamed Tripod." Vanessa's mouth fell open.  
  
"Pucey, stop corrupting my charges-" Roger began.  
  
"Oh, hello there captain," Adrian beamed at him. "Pardon me for saying so, but it's a bit sad that the females of your house have to pick up carnal terminology from stately gay men-"  
  
Cho gasped. "Eff off, Pucey!" Roger yelled. "You have a game to lose!"  
  
"Touchy, touchy," Adrian sighed with mock-hurt. "You mustn't be getting so much touchy-touchy, for you to be so touchy-touchy, if you catch my drift."  
  
Roger scowled and abruptly swung into the changing room. Adrian shrugged and flounced off. "You're hitting Bludgers at the wrong team, mate," he called over his shoulder. "And I'm not talking about Quidditch."  
  
2:42 PM  
  
Roger has just given me calming potion with a rather-dubious smell. Said he was sorry and knew he had let me off during training, but Snape had made it up especially and with teachers present, could not really afford to ignore Dumbledore's orders.  
  
Took cautious sip. Would think that something that's supposed to make people nicer would taste, well, nice, but potion tastes like worse earwax Bertie Botts' Many Flavoured Bean ever sampled. Just confirms own opinion that been good not all it's cracked up to be, really. Stood next to Bombardino, so if threw up would be all down front of his uniform. Ha ha.  
  
4:13 PM  
  
Is now over an hour into the match. Ravenclaw leading 60-40, courtesy of open-play goal and two penalties from Roger, a double from Arthur and a nice rebound from Luc. Have so far failed to knock Malfoy from Nimbus Two Thousand and One, but did make Bludger ruffle his hair and therefore his temper.  
  
Wait, why would I want to hit a Bludger at Draco? Is really quite cute adorable little thing and resembles nothing like albino rat. Nose rather pre-Raphaelite, in fact. And Marcus Flint such a chaaarrrming young man, and it would be a pity to ruin that beautiful face of his...  
  
Accidentally blocked that cute little Seeker of theirs and deliberately hit two Bludgers away from Adrian and Warrington, thus earning penalties for those nice boys in green so Slytherin now one goal ahead, but really don't mind since it is soooo nice to be giving. Roger on ground gesturing furiously for team time-out. Would say is Quidditch-obsessed grumpy-pooh but far too nice for such thoughts.  
  
"Adani, what the hell are you doing up there," he barked once I'd disembarked, "besides absolutely nothing for us and HELPING THE OPPOSITION?"  
  
"So much negativity," I sighed sympathetically. Cho stared at me.  
  
"Bloody Merlin, you're supposed to be negative!" Roger swore. "You're a Beater, and it's time you got nasty instead of just giving them the game! Despite what Flint and his bunch of floozies must be thinking right now, it isn't Christmas, you know-"  
  
"But it should be," I said soothingly. "Every day should be Christmas Day and then we would all be far more giving. Besides, young man, violence is not the answer."  
  
Roger gave me a gobsmacked look. Bombardino swore and kicked the turf.  
  
"Right, I guess I'll just have to take Nat out of the game," Roger said heavily. "Means you'll be working on your own, Bombardino, but at least this way we won't have a Beater on our team who is oh-so-considerately HELPING SLYTHERIN TO SCORE!"  
  
"Judging be Flint's and Malfoy's faces, they need all the help they can get to score," Malcolm joked weakly. Roger lanced him with a glare. "Just trying to lighten the mood," he muttered, turning away.  
  
"Honestly, Nat, I don't know what's got into you today-"  
  
"That is it," Luc, who had been silent all through the team talk, cut Roger off suddenly. "Something has got into her. It is that potion Professor Snape made for her before the game, it is doing its work too well-"  
  
Oh good lord, they have to drug me to be nice? Must be absolutely horrible person normally. "I hate myself," I sighed.  
  
"See, the potion is actually making her more suicidal!" Bombardino cried, then went off on a tangent of Italian swearing.  
  
"Young man, my ears," I begged.  
  
Roger waved Madame Hooch over to him and asked if anyone had tampered with my potion before the game (which was absolutely foul-tasting but I'm sure whoever made it meant well, the poor dear). Hooch replied it was funny that he asked that, since Snape had made it entirely, but that "Professor Lockhart had made some taste-wise amendments to it. He said it needed more salt."  
  
"That bloody dandy!" Roger swore. Tut-tutted at his language. "That's it! Cho, fly up to Clearwater and get her to go to the kitchen for some milk. Tell her to run. Nat, you're to drink milk until you're sick and throw Gilded Fool's mishap up. Its won't take long, our bodies can only handle one litre of milk at a time." Hooch was gesturing at us to hurry up. "The rest of us, well, we'll just have to make to."  
  
He mounted his broom and prepared to fly off. "Can I play too?" I asked timidly.  
  
"Hell no," Roger snapped. "You're to go to the changing room until you've drunk the milk."  
  
"Nobody likes me anymore," I said and burst into tears.  
  
4:36 PM  
  
That nice pretty lady Penelope Clearwater has arrived with four litres of milk so I can play with her. Whoopee! Ask if we can have a tea party and I can bring all my dolls to play, but she says only after I have drunk all the milk. We will have such fun!  
  
5:13 PM  
  
That nice pretty lady Penelope Clearwater has been holding my hair back while I throw up. Real nice considerate lady. Real pretty too-  
  
THAT BLOODY BITCH JUST MADE ME DRINK FOUR LITRES OF MILK!  
  
5:14 PM  
  
Chased screaming Clearhead out of changing room and onto Quidditch pitch. "And we're back in the game," Roger said cheerfully.  
  
Just then Cho and Malfoy both dove for the Snitch, the later ensnaring it. Pandemonium ensued. The Slytherin section of the stadium roared, and I felt even more like their house colour. "What did we lose by?" I choked.  
  
"Two hundred and forty to sixty," Malcolm whispered. My stomach flipped inside itself, and I deposited yet more milk onto the pitch. A pair of hands held back my hair. "Fuck off, Clearhead," I snarled.  
  
"Natalia, I am Luc," the deep, musical voice spoke up from behind me. "And what is "fuck off"?"  
  
"A phrase I will never knowingly direct at you," I replied. "Maybe "fuck me," but never "fuck off"."  
  
"What?" Luc blinked.  
  
"Nevermind," I said. "Merlin, we lost by that much? I feel so bloody awful."  
  
"Do not feel bloody awful," Luc said nicely, his tongue tripping a little on the unfamiliar swearword. "It is not your fault. You were not to know that there was something wrong with that stupid potion and besides, who has ever heard of a nice Beater?"  
  
I gave him a weak smile.  
  
Roger was walking over to us listlessly. "Roger," I began, "I'm really-"  
  
"Forget about it," he waved off my apology. "As Luc said, it wasn't your fault. Trust bloody Lockhart to mess things up! And it's not as though this match counts or anything like that." Was not sure if he was talking to me or himself. "The only thing the winner gains from it is bragging rights-" He shut up abruptly and buried his head in his hands.  
  
"Well, at least now I have a concrete reason to give Dumbledore for not wanting to off myself," I told him.  
  
"Yeah?" Roger looked up from the ground with lifeless green eyes.  
  
"Yeah," I confirmed with gritted teeth, "the reason being that I am planning on sticking around long enough to get revenge on Slytherin!" And punctuated that little outburst by throwing up yet again. 


	11. Hogsmeades and the Shrieking Shack

Author's Note: Hmm, something big happens in this one. I don't want to give away too many hints, but let's just say that some reviewers get their wish granted...  
  
I'm going away for the Easter Break, so during that period of time I won't be anywhere near a computer and therefore unable to update for a while. Hopefully I can get this up before I leave.  
  
This entry is dedicated to herringprincess, the second person to add me to her favourite authors list. Thank you for your kind comments as I've been feeling unsure about my last two entries in particular.  
  
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Entry Eleven: Hogsmeades and the Shrieking Shack  
  
Natalia goes through a pre-date scenario that all us girls can relate to and goes to Hogmeades, where she has an intriguing encounter in the Three Broomsticks. Some Draco jibes and Adrian pining in this one.  
  
6:47 AM, September 30th  
  
Well, as the above states obvious, is the fricking last day of September and since arrived on first of this month, if do not take drastic action will mean that have not been laid for an entire month tomorrow, which will be the first time has happened, since...well...I think you'd rather not know.  
  
Drastic action required.  
  
7:24 AM  
  
Spotted Clearhead and Percy Weasley on way to breakfast, holding hands *shudder*.  
  
Perhaps not quite "that" drastic.  
  
Marcus Flint sitting at Slytherin table shoving sausages into his trough. Perhaps if used charms so that had no sense of sight, or hearing, or smell, or touch...  
  
*No I just can't do it*  
  
And when the male in question is Flint, trust me, "do IT" sums up the scenario perfectly.  
  
9:51 AM  
  
On way to Potions when encountered Draco Malfoy still gloating about highly unfair victory over us. Have not seen him or any other Slytherins all weekend since with remainder of Ravenclaw team hid in common room library going over every single Quidditch game plan from 1749 with Roger and sulking. Little bastard has hired foursome of Oompa-Loompas to follow me around school singing pathetic victory song. I don't even know why am recording it except that it is hopelessly stuck in my head.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Oompa-Loompa doopity-do,  
  
Why is Natalia so blue?  
  
She lost to Slytherin and with the potion she drank,  
  
Even tried to hit on the one that is gay.  
  
Oompa-Loompa doopity-do..."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Oompa-Loompa doopity-do, Natalia is royally screwed...  
  
Damn.  
  
12:27 PM  
  
Cho Chang has just run into Great Hall crying. Apparently bumped into Malfoy and his Oompa-Loompas, who promptly burst out into obscene song about things Slytherin team want to do to her. Bar one, that is.  
  
"Ooh, he's so nasty," she sobbed. "I almost had the Snitch last friday when he leant forward and pinched my bottom and I dropped it. He's such a nasty, nasty little shit." Looked up and spotted my mouth hanging open. "Oh come on, "you" swear all the time."  
  
"Yeah, but it's me we're talking about," I told her. "And don't worry about Malfoy. Believe me, I have something special planned for him the next time we play Slytherin."  
  
2:03 PM  
  
Roger finally dismissed Oompa-Loompas on way to Herbology by turning them into tires and sending them rolling down the stairs. Draco Malfoy ran off screaming. Always knew Slytherins were cowardly little shits.  
  
Love Roger.  
  
7:23 PM  
  
Finally went temporarily insane after dinner and begged Adrian to sleep with me. "Er, Natalia," he began, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, "not that I'm not flattered, but you see, if you were a car you'd be a Rolls Royce. Great body, but without a vital piece of equipment that I'm used to having. The clutch, namely."  
  
Ewwww. Can never face Adrian again.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
8:34 AM, October 4th  
  
First trip to Hogmeades today, and previous three days have been hell. Roger has been in good mood during practices, but suspect that is on account on laughing at me for being desperate enough to hit on obviously gay guy. Know he knows about it since came up to me on Thursday night and asked if that's what I meant by my "special plan" for Malfoy, since he would have credited me with better taste than that.  
  
Roger sarky bastard a lot of the time, actually.  
  
My beautiful smooth legs are also littered with bruises since Alessandro Bombardino bombards me with every Bludger he can get his club to. Roger said this necessary as have to get used to not just hitting Bludgers, but having them come at me. Makes sense, but would prefer to have someone other than Alessandro slinging them at me as is still very obviously very pissed about getting up at 4:30 AM for The Morning Practice That Wasn't.  
  
Or perhaps just wasn't huffing that Hufflepuff as much as Roger though.  
  
On plus side, did manage to smash Bludger into my arm on Thursday, which gave Luc Delacourt opportunity to escort me to hospital wing while walking behind me and wrapping his arm around my midsection to support my elbow, sigh...  
  
Luc and Malcolm Brocklehurst also got into argument over who exactly should take me to hospital wing after Bombardino broke my arm that day. Roger insisted that he should since he was the captain and therefore responsible for me. Very nice to be fought over by three males instead of frightening Adrian off from confronting his Hufflepuff, who hasn't owled him in two weeks. Cho then lost temper and said it didn't matter who took me to the hospital wing as long as I got there. Suspect she may have been jealous, but quite relieved she stepped in as arm becoming quite painful by then.  
  
Also received owl from ex-boyfriend, saying that he has new girlfriend which means am now not only not getting any, but have to not get any in knowledge that ex-boyfriend is.  
  
Bugger.  
  
9:11 AM  
  
Right, had enough. Can't spend all day taking advantage of evening practice and lying in bed until dinnertime. Or can I?  
  
9:16 AM  
  
Well, lying in bed will involve skipping meals, and have been thinking of going on diet recently...  
  
9:24 AM  
  
What is that annoying noise on my door? Great, now going to have to get up.  
  
Found Cho waiting outside, fist poised to knock and assault my headache a third time. "Yeah?" I snapped.  
  
"Sorry to disturb you, Nat, I know you're not a morning person," she said sweetly, making me almost feel bad for my earlier rudeness. I said "almost." "I just thought you should know that Luc Delacourt is downstairs and wondering if you would like to go to Hogsmeades with him."  
  
Breathing, check. Pulse, check. "Sure." I gulped. "Do you mind just going back downstairs and telling him that I'll meet him soon? I just have to get ready."  
  
"Fine," Cho shrugged, taking in my dishevelled appearance. "You do realise that the bus leaves in half an hour, don't you?"  
  
Oh hell.  
  
"It looks like you might be a while," Cho continued. What tact, bless her. "Should I tell him to meet you on the bus?"  
  
"That would be better. Thanks, Cho." Closed the door behind her departing back and leant heavily against it.  
  
Now to create a goddess in under thirty minutes...It can be done...  
  
9:28 AM  
  
What to wear, what to wear...Underwear! Yes, for a start, and for a finish (wink), underwear would be good.  
  
9:29 AM  
  
Can't find bra to go with knickers.  
  
9:31 AM  
  
Screw the bra. And hopefully, in the process, Luc.  
  
9:32 AM  
  
Now, what else to wear besides underwear?  
  
9:34 AM  
  
Don't know what to wear.  
  
9:37 AM  
  
Still don't know what to wear.  
  
9:38 AM  
  
Have decided to wear hat since haven't time to wash or comb hair. Nice sky blue one with matching scarf would be cute. Now to find where I put it...  
  
9:40 AM  
  
Hat nowhere to be seen. On plus side, have now located matching bra so if all else fails will at least be decent and co-ordinate. But still don't know what to wear.  
  
9:41 AM  
  
Jeans. Jeans are very good. Failure-proof really, my hat (if only I could find it) goes off to the great Levi Strauss. Got those on...*puff* *puff*...great. Top button will no longer do up. Really must consider that diet. And speaking of "tops," wearing one of those would be terrific idea, just which one is the question...  
  
9:45 AM  
  
Nine forty-five already? Bloody Merlin! Alright, time for drastic action. Grab peasant-style blouse as can simply pull over head since don't have time to do up any buttons - now the ivory coat or the grey? Grey coat fortunately was best choice as hat and scarf hiding underneath. Now shove money and lip gloss into pockets (check), quickly whip blush over oh-so- delectable cheekbones (check), pat concealer over suitcases under eyes (far too serious to be labelled mere "bags") (check), curl lashes (check) and toss hairbrush and breath mints into bag for later.  
  
9:52 AM  
  
Oh My God, did the bus just pull in?  
  
10:01 AM  
  
Clattered onto bus in the Nearly-Headless-Nick of time [sorry, couldn't resist - A/N] and under the disapproving glare of the Dewhine Miss Clearwater. Thank Merlin bohemian look fashionable right now is all I can say, with savvy women's clothing designers obviously anticipating situations like mine well in advance and selflessly creating a look which takes very little time to throw together.  
  
Luc had saved a seat for me and beckoned me over. Just as got over to him, bus swerved around a corner and I stumbled. Luc caught me by the arm. Our eyes met for a moment. Roger rolled his. Is one of those things which is cheesy unless it happens to you, so really don't expect him to understand.  
  
"Salut," Luc greeted me, helping me onto the seat. When French people first meet each other, they tend to say "Bonjour," but as they get to know each other better they become less formal and say "Salut" instead. So I'm on "saluting" terms now? Aye aye, captain. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it."  
  
"So was I," I said. Well, how you can answer that in a sexy way? Really. "So is there anything you need from Hogsmeades today?"  
  
"No, I just wanted to explore the place a little," Luc replied. He can explore me anytime. "If nothing else it would be good to get out of the castle. I was beginning to feel a bit cooped up in there."  
  
"I know what you mean," I said. "I've been here all month." Caught Roger and Adrian sniggering and rolled eyes. Really, those two have been hanging out together so much you'd think they were dating.  
  
And what cute babies they would both have. Blerk.  
  
11:25 AM  
  
Got off bus and wandered around for a bit with Luc, but is really hard to be flirtatious with Roger and Adrian walking around behind us arm-in-arm and saying things like, "Oh darling, regard that feather boa over there," "Oh, isn't it beaaauuutiful..."  
  
Can't wait until Roger finally gets a crush then can tease him mercilessly about it. On other hand, may be too much of a cold-blooded reptile to ever fall for somebody.  
  
Luc finally dragged me up behind the Shrieking Shack and shacked me rotten - okay, that last part should be filed under "Wishing Thinking" category - and whispered in French that we should split up and lose the two morons by meeting up in the Three Broomsticks for a Butterbeer later. Or was it Honeydukes? Jeez, sure wish I hadn't spent so much of French class playing footsies with Thierry.  
  
3:56 PM  
  
Venue the Three Broomsticks. Luc nowhere in sight. Madame Rosmerta, apparently noting the pathetically large amount of third years around, has decided to cater to the kiddies and is blaring the sound system, unfortunately with that annoying "Humphrey the House Elf" song which has been huge hit in Europe. Think "Hampton the Hamster," but sung by one of the chipmunks.  
  
On way in snuck past Adrian, who is sitting at outdoor table with Slytherin Beater staring wistfully at group of Hufflepuffs clustered outside Honeydukes. Almost cute really. Would really like some company though.  
  
Penelope Clearwater has advanced (Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it). "Is this seat taken?" she asked, pointing to the seat across from me. Said yes and put my foot on it. "It's not taken!" she cried. "You just don't want to sit next to me!"  
  
"Well, jeez, Penelope, why ask a question when you already know the answer?" I asked, my voice reeking of sarcasm.  
  
"Why are you so mean?" she demanded, her lower lip beginning to tremble. "And why doesn't anyone want me anymore?" She burst into tears and ran out of the room, causing several occupants to give me dirty looks. Would have felt quite sorry for her if wasn't Penelope.  
  
"That was very cold, calculated and cruel," drawled a voice from above me. Looked up to see the dark-haired Beater who had been sitting with Adrian near entrance. His face split into a grin. "I like your style."  
  
"Thank you," I respond, taking my foot off the chair. "And you are?"  
  
"Carlson Warrington," he said, bending down and taking my hand. Is unremarkable, but not unpleasant looking. And his smile does have an intriguing quirk to it. "May I have the pleasure of your company? I've been sitting outside with Pucey, but he's been moping around about his Hufflepuff all afternoon. Most unpleasant."  
  
I looked outside the window to where Adrian was still sitting. Cho had walked by with a couple of friends, but had paused and was looking in the same direction as Adrian. No, Adrian didn't look as though he'd notice if I borrowed Warrington's presence for ten minutes or so, much less if Warrington stripped and performed, "Happy Birthday, Mr President" in front of him.  
  
Okay, given his inclinations, he "may" notice then.  
  
"Well?" Warrington said, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
"Sure," I said, waving a hand at the chair my foot had now vacated. "Make yourself comfortable, but not too comfortable. I don't know you that well yet." Since Luc not here may as well warm up by hitting on decent-looking and rather lippy Slytherin. "Would you like a Butterbeer? First round's on me."  
  
"Ah, a woman who takes charge," Warrington smiled. "I like that. Especially in some matters."  
  
He should be so lucky.  
  
6:34 PM  
  
Am still at the Three Broomsticks since fifth years and above are not required to take five o'clock bus back to Hogwarts so long as they return by midnight or Snape will turn them into a pumpkin. Luc, however, is not at the Three Broomsticks. Has stood me up. Bastard. But perhaps I misheard? Perhaps did ask me to do something other than meet me here at three o'clock?  
  
Oh come on, Natalia, what else could, "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?" mean?  
  
Warrington's eyes, meanwhile, have developed interesting flecks of gold in them.  
  
8:46 PM  
  
"...So then Quentin Montague performed the Rodentius Curse, which made a swarm of rats run around the classroom floor, and Lockhart leapt onto his chair shrieking at the rest of us to dispose of them," Warrington was saying. "Said he wanted to simulate a situation in which the person in charge would become paralysed with fear and the underlings would have to take over, but we all know better. And Alicia Spinnet from Gryffindor, who's meant to absolutely loathe me, screamed and jumped into my arms. She was trying to crawl up me to get away from the rats, which was a nice experience as she is rather "mature" for a fourteen year old." He burst into laughter, then glanced over at me. "You right there?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm," I mumbled, not bothering to raise my head from my arms. Around four-thirty got bored with Butterbeer and switched to Goblin Screwers, which in hindsight was very, very bad move.  
  
"Um, as much as I like the possibilities of having an gorgeous, inebriated woman in front of me, I think I better get you some water or they won't let us back on the last bus," Warrington said. Heard his chair scrape then his footsteps as he strode away.  
  
"Natalia," someone was shaking my arm mercilessly, "Natalia, ca va?"  
  
"Wha?" I groaned and raised my hand.  
  
Luc was staring down at me with concerned blue eyes. When am drunk tend to develop beer goggles, and since even Flint was beginning to look only slightly ugly before he headed out around seven, well, the affect they had on a guy like Luc was pretty much near mind-altering. "You are so gorgeous," I slurred.  
  
"Natalia, who is here with you?" he demanded sharply. "Who did this to you?"  
  
"I did," I replied, trying to force some coherency into my head. "I mean, Warrington was sitting with me just now, but he's at the bar getting me some water." I began to slip back down towards the table. "My head hurts. I'm just going to sleep here for a while."  
  
"Not, you are not," Luc insisted, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to my feet. "We are going to leave and go for a walk." He half-steered, half- carried me out of the door and into the street outside.  
  
The coldness shocked me into something a little closer to sobriety and I started to shiver. "I lost my coat," I whined self-pityingly, and instantly felt Luc's draped around my shoulders.  
  
"Here, you will drink some of this," he said, closing my hand around an open bottle of Butterbeer. "It will warm you up and it is not as good as water, but it will get some of the alcohol out of your body."  
  
"Thanks," I said, then titled my head back and drained the bottle.  
  
A few minutes later I felt only slightly tipsy and looked up at Luc. Nope, still gorgeous. But what is that bloody rotten feeling in the core of my stomach? "Oh, effing Merlin," I groaned, appropriating one of Adrian's sayings, then shoved Luc out of the way and began to empty my stomach. Luc's hands pulled my hair back out of harm's way. "I seem to be doing this a lot lately," he said and I laughed weakly.  
  
Once had finished Luc tightened my scarf around my neck and led me away. "I think we better go indoors somewhere since it is getting very cold," he said. "I cannot take you to Honeydukes or anywhere like that though, because you are still drunk. Is that old building in the centre of the town safe to go into?"  
  
"The Shrieking Shack?" I asked. "Yeah, Victoria Abbot was telling me the other day in Herbology that it was haunted, but who listens to those kinds of things from a Hufflepuff?"  
  
We were at the front entrance when the moon came out from behind the clouds, illuminating Luc's eyes deliciously. I decided that I just couldn't take it anymore. There's usually an awkward pause between the time when you know you're going to kiss someone and you actually do it, and maybe there was from Luc's perspective, but these things happen very quickly when you're drunk. His body jolted with shock and he drew back instantly, but I grabbed his hair and pulled him back to my mouth. "So, about going inside?" I breathed gustily.  
  
"Natalia, you're drunk," Luc's voice was hesitant in the dark.  
  
"Oh, c'mon Frenchie, alcohol doesn't affect us girls in the way it does you," I joked. "I'm still able." He still paused, so I decided to take a serious tact. "Look, I've wanted to do this with you since I've first met you, I've done it before and I've done it sober. There's no harm done. And if you're still not sure about it afterwards, then wait until I'm sober and I'll do my best to convince you otherwise."  
  
"Alright then, cherie," Luc finally caved in. He grinned and pushed his lips against mine for a quick, hard kiss, then we sprang into the abandoned building together.  
  
So that's why they call it the "Shrieking" Shack...  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Woo hoo, I've finally done it! (Well, Natalia has anyway). Hope it was all you've been waiting for and that I didn't disappoint anyone. A crack about being anti-climatic is in my mind, but I don't want to give this an "R" rating, so I'll keep it to myself for now.  
  
You may think this event means the end of this fic, but it doesn't. Despite what Natalia seems to think, the sole purpose of her being at Hogwarts is not to find a decent shag and I have plenty more in store for her, so stick around. 


	12. A Conversation with Roger

Author's Note: Alright, I'm spending time writing this that should be better used to finish my assignment, and the computer just ate about 300 words worth of Natalia's entry. So I hope that's not an omen. Also, as you may have realised by now, I write like a demon when I'm stressed and busy (on everything but the assignment I'm meant to be working on, that is).  
  
This entry is dedicated to Lorna, who I have the pleasure of knowing (and who has the displeasure of knowing me, he he) in the real world and who puts up with me haranguing her to read this.  
  
Disclaimer: The Goblin Screwers from the last entry are mine and I'm immensely proud of them :-)  
  
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Entry Twelve: A Conversation with Roger  
  
Well, I think this one's pretty self-explanatory, don't you?  
  
12:03 AM, October 5th  
  
Despite best efforts Luc and I still managed to miss last bus back to Hogwarts, so had to walk entire way back. Which would normally take about half an hour, but is much longer when don't have optimal usage of limbs and motor skills.  
  
We also stopped to take advantage of nice pile of leaves on way.  
  
1:39 AM  
  
Once reached castle Luc and I parted ways, him saying that he had forgotten to send letter to mother and needed to go up to Owlery. Did not mind as able to check out his arse when he began to climb up staircase to get there. Am very, very lucky girl.  
  
Come to think of it, pile of leaves may have actually been same one that made during detention day. Good to know that didn't go to waste. Was originally intended for Oliver Wood, but quite frankly has had his chance. He may be Scottish and sexy Gryffindor Quidditch captain and everything, but is not part-Veela. Mary Sues don't know what they are missing out on. Silly bints.  
  
Normal way back to common room closed off due to lateness of hour so had to walk through wolf-whistling knights hall, but really did not mind. In fact, in such good mood that blew kisses to them as passed through. Common room nice and warm, with all lights still on. Am really very luck girl...  
  
"Where have you been?" someone demanded, breaking through my thoughts and making me jump.  
  
A haggard-looking Roger was sitting at largest common room table, framed by towering stacks of books. "Warringtons out looking for you," he said without giving me a chance to reply. "How do you think he felt when he came back to your table and you were gone? How do you I think I felt when we got onto the last bus back to Hogwarts and you weren't on it?"  
  
"I'm sorry," I giggled. "My hands were a bit full with, uh, something." Under Roger's stare I stopped laughing and lowered my eyes.  
  
"Well, next time just have a bit of consideration, will you?" he snapped. "Warrington was frantic when he couldn't find you again, especially given the state you were in when he left you. "Anything" could have happened to you. You had no business going off by yourself like that!"  
  
"I wasn't alone!" I flung back at him, beginning to tire of his lecture. "Luc was with me!"  
  
Roger's eyes snapped open and his mouth tightened into a thin line. I watched and waited for the outburst to come, but it didn't. "Alright then," he said finally. "The next time something like this happens, could you please, please just let someone know where you're going? Even in your state, you must be able to see how worried your friends were about you."  
  
"Look, I'm sorry," I said, collapsing on the couch to his right. "Normally I wouldn't have done that but I'd had at least seven Goblin Screwers." At least remember drinking seven, so probably was into double digits by time Luc arrived, but considered it wise not to tell Roger that. "I was just too drunk."  
  
"Did Delacourt know someone else was with you?" Roger asked.  
  
"I-I think so," I responded, wondering why was so nervous around him. "I mean, I vaguely remember telling him, but I could have just thought of telling him and not done it-"  
  
"And was he as inebriated as you were?"  
  
I shook my head.  
  
Roger jerked his head away and ran a hand through his hair. "So," he directed to the wall across from him, "you were, well, and he still-" He pushed the chair back and sprung to his feet. "That bastard! I'll kill him! Well, I'll kick him off the team at least," he amended himself, seeing my sceptical look. "Bloody Merlin!"  
  
"You've never liked him," I accused.  
  
"I would have thought better of him," he shot back. "I know he's wanted to for weeks, but I had no idea he would do it when you were drunk. Effing bloody twat!" He sunk back onto his chair and frustratedly buried his head in his hands.  
  
"Roger," I said, rising to my feet (which took no small amount of effort) and going over to him, "Luc had given me a Butterbeer and I'd thrown up, so I was sober enough to know what I was doing. Besides, I was the one who made the moves on him. So if you're going to get angry at anyone, it should be me."  
  
"Why would I be angry?" Roger snapped.  
  
"Well, I don't know, but you are," I snapped back. We glared at each other for a minute, then Roger relented and gestured to the chair next to him. I sank into it. "Well, thanks for waiting up for me."  
  
"What makes you think I was waiting for you?" Roger retorted, but his voice had a hollowness to it. "I have books in front of me, don't I?" I shifted my chair over to him and put my arms around him. It felt like a long time before he hugged me back. Suddenly I felt hot tears sliding down my cheeks.  
  
"I'm sorry, Roger," I sobbed. "I didn't mean to make you worry about me. Everything just happened so quickly and I wasn't thinking about anyone else. I'm really, really sorry. Oh, I don't know why I'm crying like this. It must be because I've been drinking. This is so bloody embarrassing-"  
  
"Sh, sh," Roger soothed, bringing up one hand to brush the hair out of my face. "No need to be embarrassed. I'm the only one here. I'm a mean bastard really, I should have had this talk with you when you were sober. Your face even still feels hot." He rose to his feet and helped me out of Luc's coat, then led me back to the couch. I curled up gratefully on top of it. "Are you thirsty? Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"  
  
"N-no, I'm fine, thank you," I hiccuped.  
  
Roger stood looking down at me for a while, then said, "Well, I should really go outside and tell Warrington that you've returned. I know he's a Slytherin, but I still feel bad letting the bastard freeze. I'll just get my cloak from upstairs, then I'll be off."  
  
"No, why wake everyone?" I said. "Take mine." Too late I remembered that had misplaced own coat in the Three Broomsticks and it was Luc's I was holding out for him. Roger hesitated, obviously considering the coat's owner, then reached out and took it from me.  
  
"I'd best be off then," he said. "Oh, by the way, if you're to get any rest at all you might want to stay down here tonight. Clearhead and Weasley had an argument at Hogmeades earlier and she's been upstairs bawling since she got back."  
  
"Mmm-hmm," I yawned sleepily as my head sunk into the pillow. Felt Roger reach over and extinguish the table lamp next to me, then his footsteps receded out of the room.  
  
When I was awoken five hours later by Bombardino on his way outside for a run (at seven on a Sunday morning - Freak), could still not figure out why I had been crying. 


	13. Penelope wants a Conversation too

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, but I was visiting my grandparents for the week and I had no computer or internet access, therefore no fanfic updates. Hopefully my last few entries have given you a lot to think about, and thanks to those who are still with me! While I remember, this entry gets a BIG FAT "R" RATING! So if you're under fifteen, go home :-).  
  
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Entry Thirteen: Penelope wants a Conversation too  
  
Natalia finds her already-limited Dear Abby skills sorely taxed.  
  
4:32 AM, October 7th  
  
Woo hoo! Am still in very, very good mood from last weekend. Sleep, I hear you ask? I don't need sleep. Besides, beds are better used for other things. Or closets. Or bushes...  
  
Besides, have to get up in hour anyway for six o'clock Quidditch practice (hasn't Roger read revolutionary new data on how teenagers' body clocks are switched so that ideally they sleep and get up late? Apparently not). When getting dressed will be sure to slam drawers very loudly so as to wake Clearhead. Cow kept me up for past three nights with incessant blubbering, well, didn't exactly but would have had I, uh, been in, but it's the thought that counts anyway.  
  
Roger has been in royal bloody snitch these past few days and must show up early to stay on good side (no, not his rather lush backside - ooh, where did that come from?), since am falling behind in Transfiguration and he is top student.  
  
5:41 AM  
  
Ambled downstairs in uniform. Common room deserted, except for Luc, who is very much, um, there, and wearing white Quidditch pants that tantalisingly *grip* *his* *thighs*...  
  
So it appears that despite best intentions, will be late to practice once again.  
  
6:18 AM  
  
Roger harpooned us with sharp look as we both jogged onto the field, panting and breathless. "Well, this is interesting," he drawled. "Adani and Delacourt, late yet again. Together. Quelle coincidence? Je ne pense pas." Luc shrugged and blushed, grinning sheepishly. "Very well," Roger continued. "After practice you two can round up the Bludgers. The Snitch too, if Cho hasn't caught it yet. And take care not to be late to your first classes." With that he strode off.  
  
Was hoping Cho would take forever with Snitch so would have longer to spend with Luc, but she caught it after only half an hour. Okay, so "now" she catches it. Where's a crap Seeker when we need one?  
  
Will have to be quickie then...  
  
8:25 AM  
  
Midday through breakfast Adrian and Warrington rose from Slytherin table and with co-ordinating smirks walked over to where I was sitting, then plopped down opposite me and propped their chins on their heads, also in synch. Should really do synchronised swimming together, Adrian would really take to pink flowered cap. "Spill," he ordered.  
  
Uh-oh.  
  
"You mean this jug of milk all over your smug mug?" I joked, deliberately playing dumb since Luc only a few seats down.  
  
"Oh, come off, Adani," Warrington said, rolling brown eyes heavenwards. If you believe in that sort of thing, that is. Which I didn't until Saturday night. "Don't tell me I was out in that blistering bloody Northerly for two hours and had the rather traumatic sight of Hagrid standing there in boxers when I knocked on his door to ask if you were there, for nothing?"  
  
"Why would I be in Hagrid's hut?" I asked.  
  
"Well, you did once say that you liked blokes with a bit of hair on them," Adrian shrugged. Warrington chuckled.  
  
"That doesn't extend to the woolly mammoth, you moron," I hissed. "Now could you two please stuff off, I'm trying to eat my breakfast."  
  
"Not until we get one thing straight," Adrian said, eyes glinting dangerously.  
  
"You see," Warrington took the floor, "in Slytherin we call, well, what you've been doing all weekend, a "drag-on." And we have a saying that if it's three drag-ons, it's a relationship. So, what we want to know is, in Slytherin terms, is it a relationship for you and Lucy yet?"  
  
I glanced down the table. Luc was engrossed in conversation with Malcolm Brocklehurst about Bludger avoidance strategies. "If I answer, will you two leave me alone?" I muttered.  
  
Both nodded eagerly.  
  
"Alright then," I scowled. "It is."  
  
The pair of them whooped and high-fived each other. "I knew it!" Warrington cried. "But you still owe me five sickles, she didn't get any within the first month she was at Hogwarts."  
  
"You made a bet on whether or not I would-" I spluttered.  
  
"Who would have thought those odds would screw me over?" Adrian mused, reaching into his cloak pocket.  
  
Now Luc was looking down the table at us. Could feel my face burning red. "Look," I hissed. "I answered your question. Now clear off and let me finish my eggs."  
  
"Seems like Delacourts been doing enough of that," Warrington whispered, smirking, then scooted off bench and jogged back to Slytherin table before my foot had chance to respond.  
  
"That one knows far too much for a fourteen year old," Adrian said, shaking his head solemnly. "Er, Adani, next time, well, you know-"  
  
"Yes?" I prompted, my jaw clenched lethally.  
  
"Can I watch?"  
  
Slytherin pure-blood and impure-minded resident gay spunk then found himself being pursued out of Great hall while yelling, "But I wouldn't look at you! You know that, Nat!"  
  
He probably wouldn't have been looking at his Salazar Slytherin for rest of days if had caught him, but fortunately for Adrian and his Hufflepuff, he is very fast runner.  
  
9:53 AM  
  
Jeez, with all this fun and games, haven't had chance to study for Potion exam. Hope Snape is in good mood.  
  
Good mood? Snape?  
  
10:05 AM  
  
Mix unicorn emulsifiers with what to get what? Has he been getting into Doublebore's whoopy-weed again? Doesn't Brycleam-haired bastard realise that we have to sleep sometime? Not that is favourite between-the-sheets activity, but as vision swims and head jerks down towards desktop, have come to realisation that is sadly necessary.  
  
10:26 AM  
  
Must I have those kinds of dreams about Snape? Will ensure that never fall asleep in Potions again.  
  
10:58 AM  
  
Was preparing to storm out of Potions when felt tug on edge of my sleeve. "Natalia," Penelope said from behind me, "a word, please."  
  
Oh great, what have I done now? Perhaps is illegal to have any fun at all in Hogwarts, or (could be inverse of several US states) some luvin' if not gay.  
  
Penelope, meanwhile, was leading me down to nether regions of castle. "Won't we be late for Herbology?" I asked.  
  
"It will be fine," Penelope said. "Professor Sprout won't question us since I'm a Prefect."  
  
"Abusing our position a little, aren't we?" I asked. Expected snappy rejoinder on the importance of prefects to the school, but instead gave me small, sad smile. Since have clearly not done anything wrong as she would have launched into an Iliad-length lecture by now, am at complete loss of what the Hufflepuff she would want to talk to me about.  
  
Had reached neglected hallway when Penelope said, "In here," and pulled me into seldom-used bathroom with half the stall doors falling off hinges. A faint blubbering could be heard from end cubicle.  
  
"It's only Moaning Myrtle," Penelope said, guiding me to stone bench opposite cluster of sinks. "Sit."  
  
Perched apprehensively as far from her as could get, hoping like hell she hasn't picked up on Adrian's habits and wants to screw me. Glance nervously towards her long nails. Penelope a lot skinnier than me, but much better with hexes.  
  
"Natalia," Penelope began, turning towards me with sea-coloured eyes, "you know a lot about sex, don't you?"  
  
Oh shit, oh shit, she's turned! She "is" hitting on me! That's what screwing a Weasley must do to you. Must think of tactful way to get out of this before she hits me with Rictusemprium curse and rips my panties off while I'm indisposed with laughter. And tact not one of my strong points. "Yes, but only with guys," I blurted out nervously.  
  
"Natalia, whatever are you talking about?" Penelope gave me a look, sounding more like old, bossy self. "What else would you have sex with, a Boggart?"  
  
"Nothing. I was just making a joke," I said, very relieved.  
  
"Maybe you were a bad choice to have this conversation with," Penelope said.  
  
"No, no, I'll be serious," I promised her. "What's on your mind?"  
  
"Well," Penelope shifted uncomfortably on the bench, "Percy and I, we've, you know-"  
  
I waited for her to continue.  
  
"During the Quidditch match between us and Slytherin," Penelope confirmed. "We knew with everyone going to watch, the common areas would be practically deserted, so, in the fifth year girls' dorm-"  
  
"Not on my bed, I hope," I cut in.  
  
"No, of course not, on mine!" Penelope snapped, then fell silent. I waited a moment for her to resume. She didn't. "Well?" I encouraged eventually. "How was it?"  
  
"Awful." For a moment Penelope looked like she was about to cry. "Well, "he" certainly seemed to think everything was fine. He's been wheedling to do it again ever since. Except I just felt really sore afterwards, and I wasn't expecting it to hurt so much. So last weekend, we sort of broke things off over it."  
  
"Which is why you were so upset at the Three Broomsticks," I concluded.  
  
Penelope nodded absently. "After that I thought I would feel really good. I mean, I have a lot more free time now, and I should be able to focus on studying for OWLs, but I'm finding it hard to concentrate. I don't want to, you know, do that again, but I really miss him and I just feel rotten, really-" She buried her face in her hands and started to cry.  
  
Oh hell.  
  
"Oh come on, Penny," I begged. "Please, I'm hopeless with tears. You know me." Penelope's sobbing only increased. I shrugged and tore a leaf out of Binns' textbook (Penelope must have torn leaf out of mine, since is shagging guys), and transfigured it into a Kleenex. She sniffed, "Thank you," and blew her nose loudly.  
  
An eardrum-shattering wail broke out, but for once was not coming from Penelope. "Oh, whatever can "she" have to cry about?" A bawling apparition "ghosted" out of the end cubicle. "At least she can have sex. She's still alive. No one can have sex with me BECAUSE I'M DEAD!"  
  
"Oh, put a sock in it, Myrtle, and do something with your hair while you're at it," I said irritably. "But whether you're dead or alive, it makes no difference to your chances of ever scoring. If you ask nicely though, Peeves may be willing."  
  
"Ooh, you're beastly!" Myrtle howled, then disappeared back into her cubicle. There was a loud splash, and her blubbering, now muffled by the pipes, resumed.  
  
"Now then," I began, "let me get this straight. You still want to be with Percy but you don't want to "beee" with him?"  
  
Wet-faced, Penelope nodded.  
  
"So you've got to tell him all this," I said to her. "It's no good talking to me about it if you're not going to have the same conversation with him. When your relationship gets more, uh, intimate, it's more important than ever to be honest with each other."  
  
Penelope sat silently. "It's not that I want us to cool things off, emotionally, at least" she said eventually, "or that I may not ever want to do it again. I just didn't feel ready, and I want to feel ready the next time we do it."  
  
"Well, tell him that, then," I said. "Also, make sure that next time, you're not just ready emotionally, but ready physically, if you know what I mean, and it will hurt a lot less. And remember, if you respect the person and they respect you, it's nothing to be ashamed of. And it doesn't concern anyone except the person you're sleeping with. This is between you and Weasley."  
  
"All nine of them?" Penelope blinked.  
  
"No, just Percy, you daft cow. Although there may be something going on between you and the twins for all I know. You should be careful, though. I hear threesomes aren't all they're cracked up to be."  
  
"You're sick, Adani," Penelope said, but she was smiling. "So I guess that's it, then. I have to talk to him now." Her smile faded.  
  
"If he likes you, he'll wait," I said.  
  
"But he might not," Penelope stalled.  
  
"Well, then you'll know, won't you?"  
  
Penelope sat quietly for a moment, then, a decision apparently reached, rose to her feet. "I'm going to talk to him," she said, "He may not like it, but I have to know. Things can't go on like this. We can't stay in limbo." Her eyes flickered hopefully over to me. "Besides, we were going out for almost five months before we finally did it. That should mean something. I mean, he should understand, shouldn't he?"  
  
"Usually that's a good sign," I said, "but I have no idea what kind of relationship you and Percy have."  
  
"Thanks for listening," Penelope said, catching me up in a hug. I willed myself not to pull away. "I'm so glad we had this talk. So, are we okay now?"  
  
"I guess," I shrugged. "Now get off me before I have to kill you."  
  
Penelope gave me an once-over, then starting laughing. "You have the whole school sold on your tough woman persona, but you're a softy deep down," she giggled. Moaning Myrtle's bawling rose to a fever pitch. "Very deep down," she amended herself.  
  
"We'd better get going if we're going to convince Sprout we have a valid reason for being late," I suggested, gathering up my books. "See you 'round, Myrtle."  
  
"Ooh, she's making fun of my weight again!" Myrtle shrieked, bursting into a fresh bray of tears.  
  
"Again, thank you for this," Penelope said. "I owe you one." Halfway through the door she paused and glanced back at me. "Oh, best wishes to you and Luc Delacourt. When he arrived, with him being so gorgeous, everyone was wondering who he'd end up with, but I'm glad you got him. It's about time those Gryffindor girls stop stealing our men."  
  
So that's why she's resorted to a Weasley, I thought. Outwardly, I said nothing.  
  
"I heard that he kissed you right after you threw up," Penelope was babbling on excitedly. "He must really like you." How does she know that? Oh, Adrian. Little bastard. Really must learn to stop sharing secrets with Slytherins. "So, are we friends now?"  
  
"Don't push it," I muttered, following her out the door. 


	14. Quidditch and Questionable Behaviour

Author's Note: Okay, I intended to write this at least a week ago. I'm so sorry it's being a long time since I've updated this story, I've just had group projects coming out of my ears and I haven't really been in the mood to write, to be honest. This chapter is also quite crucial so I had to get it right. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed and I apologise again for keeping you waiting.  
  
Disclaimer: Those of you who, like me, read Cassandra Claire's Very Secret Diaries will recognise one of Natalia Adani's lines from the Hufflepuff- Ravenclaw Quidditch match from Legolas's Two Towers entry. And like me, you'll be wondering why Cassie hasn't updated since early March *sigh*. The Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match is also based heavily on that of the CoS chapter, "The Rogue Bludger."  
  
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Entry Fourteen: Quidditch and Questionable Behaviour  
  
And for once, it's not coming from Natalia. Also features two Quidditch matches and (needless to say) Roger once again behaving like Oliver Wood.  
  
2:16 PM, October 25th  
  
ijustcan'tdealwiththisijustcan'tdealwiththisijustcan'tdealwiththis...  
  
It's almost seven hours later and I still feel like I've been walloped in the stomach by a Bludger hit by Hagrid. Why do people even want to get involved with this kind of thing? Why? There has to be a point to it or...anything...It's just like this vicious cycle. Up. Down. In. Out. And now I'm well and truly out.  
  
But I digress. Has been over two weeks since last poured my mysteries and misdeeds into this thing, and order must be found in the midst of disorder. I just wish it didn't hurt so much. I feel so stupid...  
  
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8:16 AM, October 11th  
  
First official Quidditch match of the season, and much Gryffindor grating and goading (from my side of the commentator's box, at least) await. Much as I want to see Malfoy's mug rubbed in manor muck after manner towards Cho from two weekends ago, look at who they're playing. I mean, am I really going to go after the Grating Gryffindorks, even when they're playing Slytherin?  
  
Besides, will be enough Gryffindork propaganda from Jordan's side, so will fight fire with venom and be equally biased towards Slytherin. Smirks really far sexier than blatant do-goodness anyway. I mean, exactly how much does Hufflepuff get? Less than the entire Weasel clan put together, I reckon.  
  
9:53 AM  
  
Well, sitting pretty in my little commentator's box waiting for match to start. Er, well, technically is not "my" commentator's box, but Lee Jordan's, and technically not even commentator's, but teachers', box. Snotty members of staff would have us here, most probably to keep an idea on us. Spoilsports. Will have to play footsies with Jordan some other time. On second thoughts, midget could most probably not reach my feet and am in relationship (in Slytherin terms anyway, shagging being closest to relationship any of them ever get - oo-eer) with Luc, so cannot play footsies with anyone other than him.  
  
Monogamy really starting to get me down. Should be limited to simply being smooth, dark wood.  
  
Speaking of the Gryffindor himself, has just taken to the air and is flying adorably close to Katie Bell.  
  
"Hey, you supple, sexy thing," I called out as him and Moo flew within ten feet of my, ahem - our, ahem (oh screw it) - box. "Good luck today. You'll need it. Let's do lunch." Oliver snorted it and made to fly off. Moo sent me daggers. "Oh yeah, you too, Wood." Both Gryffindorks almost fell off their brooms. "Bet that confused them," I tossed to Jordan, who was sniggering into his microphone.  
  
"Weasley twins would've liked that one," he replied. "Butterbeer?"  
  
"Don't mind if I do," I said, reaching for one.  
  
"Do what, exactly?" he asked with a gleam in his eye. "Or whom, if I was to be more precise? Me?"  
  
There was shocked silence from stadium, then laughter. Realised with horror that had accidentally switched microphone on. McGonagall is glaring down from behind us. Luc is glaring from across the stadium at us.  
  
Oops.  
  
1:56 PM  
  
Party time! Slytherin leading sixty points to zero. Knew I would be doing them a favour by wearing green underwear today. Wood will no doubt be complaining about Slytherin's Malfoy's donated (probably contraband) Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones, but bad craftsmen always blame their tools. And his Slytherin ex, Zoe Zabini, has been heard complaining about "his" tool recently. He he.  
  
Jordan now rather morose, so have been pulling his weight in terms of announcements. To cheer up him, have charmed wand to leap up and draw a scarlet smoke "L" above his forehead whenever Slytherin score.  
  
Malfoy turning to taunt Potter (good boy). Does appear though to have rather large circular golden earring fluttering around his head...  
  
MALFOY YOU MORON, THE SNITCH IS ON TOP OF YOUR FUCKING HEAD!  
  
2:02 PM  
  
So once again, those Gryffs pull through and all is right with the bloody world. Excuse me while I gag myself with my wand, which has backfired and is now charming large smoke "L" above "my" forehead.  
  
"Hey, Adani," Lee beamed at me, "what was that you said about sleeping with me if Slytherin lost?"  
  
"Ah, no, Jordan," I said, shaking my head at him. "When I said, "If Slytherin lose, I'll sleep with Luc," you must have misheard me as saying, "If Slytherin lose, I'll sleep with you." To me that was a clear case of wishful thinking."  
  
"Or a Freudian slip," he tossed back, grinning evilly. "So, Miss Adani, what would you have done had Slytherin won?"  
  
"Sleep with Luc," I smiled and left the tower.  
  
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9:17 AM, October 18th  
  
Gryffindor-inflicted good mood (note sarcasm here) increased following Saturday, on knowledge that would not only have to wear hideous ice hockey- inspired uniforms, but would have to do so, once again, in front of entire school in order to take on out-of-puff Hufflepuffs. Since Gryffindor were losing by six goals before Potter swooped to the rescue, if are losing by five goals or less and Cho catches the Snitch, will go first place in rankings due to goal difference. Ernie MacMillan on Slytherin broom would be no match for Cho on a Bluebottle, and since Ernie on Cleansweep Five and Cho riding my old Nimbus Two Thousand (which I had upgraded to Two Thousand and One over summer), should catch Snitch easily. As for goal difference, c'mon, it's Hufflepuff!  
  
"Alright then, ladies, gentlemen and Natalia," Roger began. I rolled my eyes. "We have our first official match of the season against a house that has lost every game for the past five years." He glanced around changing room and saw Bombardino rubbing hands together with glee. "Now, I know that on paper we should thrash them, but this match does not occur on paper." Vanessa giggled. Roger scowled at her. "Look, I know they're the most underachieving bloody house in Hogwarts, but if we fly out there thinking we only need to circle the pitch once and we've got it, that's when they'll hurt us! Any team in this school is capable of beating any other team on any given day."  
  
"Roger, we know," Malcolm Brocklehurst said. We had suffered through, uh, been given, variations of this speech for the better part of last two weeks. However, this was first time I had heard it in full, since early practice times had caused me to sleep through previous deliveries.  
  
"And don't fall into the trap of thinking of this as a dress rehearsal to our game next weekend against Gryffindor," Roger continued to rant. "If we lose, then we're not only under more pressure to win against Gryffindor, but we'll be waiting for them to drop points against Hufflepuff, which will not happen while any of us are still breathing, I assure you."  
  
"I know someone who's in Hufflepuff and who would be a very good Seeker," Cho said, "but his father won't let him try out for the team unless he gets decent pre-OWLs."  
  
"That's all very well, Cho, but this is the current season we're talking about," Roger said. (Anyway, back to me, I thought). "And speaking of you, I'll need you to use a defensive Seeker strategy today. Since it could go down to the wire, we need to use this game to get a huge goal difference to compete with the other houses. So don't look for the Snitch yourself. Just mark MacMillan. Keep him close to you. Understand?" Cho nodded. "Good. Let's roll."  
  
9:31 AM  
  
Flew out into stadium to Lee Jordan's cries of, "DAVIES! DELACOURT! BROCKLEHURST! ADANI! BOMBARDINO! JOHNSON! ANNNNND CHANG!" A blue roar erupted from left side of stadium. Briefly spotted Potter's floozy, Hermione Grater, waving a blue flag. How that bookworm never slithered herself into Ravenclaw during the sorting ceremony, I don't know. Putting her in Gryffindor is like sorting Malfoy into Hufflepuff. And that Frogbottom kid, if he's brave and noble and daring then I'm Great Aunt Helga.  
  
Jordan's braying announced the entry of the Hufflepuff side, looking like bloody canaries in their oh-so-shaggable bright yellow robes. There's a reason why the movie version of Wolverine ditched that shiny yellow spandex number for black leather (phwoar) in X-Men, mates. Spotted MacMillan, a rather chubby blond kid clinging for dear life to his broom. Only danger is that due to superior girth, he could knock Cho out of the way in pursuit of Snitch, but no doubt Roger has gone over this with her several thousands of times. Better her than me. Broke away from team's warm-up laps with Bombardino, who as Roger had earlier decreed, produced a tennis ball and hit to me. Swung it back politely, as unwise (though tempting) to injure obnoxious teammates prior to game.  
  
Hooch strode out onto field and we took positions. Roger dismounted and walked over to Hooch to shake hands with the canaries' captain, a waxen- skinned boy almost a head shorter than he [A/N - Okay, I know the Hufflepuff team wouldn't be "quite" that bad, but this is Natalia's perspective we're talking about, not mine]. Bombardino caught my eye and gave a significant look over to a fourth year Beater, the one kid on their side of the pitch that had beef in all the right places. He mouthed "Danger Man" and I nodded.  
  
With a blast of Hooch's whistle, we were off. Luc was the first to the Quaffle. The Hufflepuff Danger Man immediately swung a Bludger at him, but I intercepted it and hurled it back, warning him right off. No one tries it on with my part-Veela. Luc swerved to the right, making as if to go around the Hufflepuff Keeper, but at the last minute passed the Quaffle to Roger, who carefully lobbed it over the Keeper and into the far goal. First blood Ravenclaw.  
  
Glanced over to see how Cho was doing, and realised that needn't have bothered. She was practically holding Ernie MacMillan upright on his broom, who had gone a sickly shade of green. Jeez, only the Hufflepuffs would pick a Seeker who is afraid of heights. Bloody brilliant really.  
  
Meanwhile, the canaries' Chasers had actually got it together enough to hurdle towards our goal. Their Danger Man had once again attempted damage with a Bludger, trying to veer Vanessa off-course as she attempted a save from a pony-tailed girl, but this time it was Bombardino who blocked the effort, swinging it back effortlessly towards their captain. Was it just me, or did his Bludger zoom needlessly close to me while knocking canary captain from his broom? Hmm...  
  
Within half an hour, we were fifty points ahead (needless to say, the scoreline was fifty-zero, not sixty-ten or seventy-five, as Hufflepuff seemed incapable of stringing two passes, let alone two coherent sentences - himbos - together). Cho had given up all efforts of locating the Snitch and had her arms around MacMillan, who was now purple. Really, some people. Bombardino and I were criss-crossing the stadium with Bludgers, and Roger and Luc were flying like maniacs. The Hufflepuff side of the stadium was like a graveyard. Their Keeper had even tipped the Quaffle through one of his own hoops.  
  
"Own goal! Own goal!" Vanessa, who supported a Muggle football team called Arsenal [A/N - I always knew she was cool] screamed as Bombardino wolf- whistled.  
  
"What is an own goal?" Luc asked, looking perplexed. Vanessa didn't have time to reply. The head canary, who had resumed flight, was sprinting towards us. Luc body-checked him, causing him to drop the Quaffle, which Vanessa snatched and tossed to Roger.  
  
"Penalty!" the canary Chasers howled, in reference to Luc's block on their captain. Hooch blew her whistle shrilly. Roger protested that it had been a potential scoring situation, but under Hooch's instruction tossed the Quaffle back to the canaries, a mutinous expression on his face. Completely with Roger on this one. Bloody Hooch. Anyone who has an overzealous grasp of fairness to the point where she actually "volunteers" to be referee during Quidditch match could only have been a Hufflepuff. Therefore should not even be on pitch due to bias. Fortunately Vanessa saved and punched the rebound out to Malcolm, who swerved a Bludger and sped towards the canary goal. Since daft birds had clustered around our area in order to see penalty outcome, goal was undefended save Keeper. Sixty-zero Ravenclaw.  
  
After three hours we were leading one hundred and seventy to ten (head canary got goal after blocking Cho, and therefore should have had possession returned to us for unnecessary foul on Seeker) and had stopped for a lunch break. The Ravenclaw part of the stadium sang "Who's afraid of the big bad Hufflepuff?" as we munched on sandwiches. Knowing that even had every law of nature rebelled and MacMillan actually caught the Snitch, the head canary formally withdrew the now lime-coloured second year from proceedings, making the game in effect a farce. With the outcome of the match now completely written as a Ravenclaw win, since Cho was the only one who could catch the Snitch, the Gryff and Slyth supporters buggered off, leaving the blue and yellow quarters of the school. Now this shows how daft Hufflepuffs really are. If "my" team was sure to lose, I would have slipped out as quickly and quietly as possible, but see how loyalty can make you look foolish? Jeeez. With the Hufflepuff Beaters now focusing their attention exclusively on our Chasers and ignoring Cho, Bombardino and I had our work out for us. My arm felt ready to pop out of its socket. It was only when we were four hundred points ahead that Roger signalled to Cho to put the canaries out of their misery and catch the Snitch. So it finally ended FOUR HUNDRED AND THIRTY TO TWENTY. If I write it in bigger letters, perhaps it would feel more real.  
  
"Now remember, we played a bloody long match today and Gryffindor have had an extra weekend to recover from their last match," Roger cautioned as we walked off the pitch, Luc and I arm-in-arm. "You all need to be sensible and make sure you get plenty of rest between now and next Saturday. And that means sleep - alone!" he added, shooting a significant look at Luc and myself.  
  
"So you won't be having any more early morning practices?" Vanessa asked hopefully.  
  
"No, we'll be having heaps of those," Roger said with relish. Cho groaned. "I just meant bearing in mind our next game, we should all make a conscious effort to spend less time burning the midnight oil this week. Less time on homework and tests."  
  
Malcolm, the perennial academic overachiever, had turned a MacMillan shade. "Well, what did you expect?" Bombardino hissed to Vanessa as they left the field. "It's "Roger" we're talking about."  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
6:49 AM, October 24th  
  
Well, result against Hufflepuff has left me in, as a certain Hogwarts dropout and loser would say, a "ruddy good mood." Gryffindors glancing apprehensively at us as we walk through halls, instead of making snide comments about "weak-wristed honour roll scalers." Bombardino, scarily, has taken to carrying his bat (and I don't mean the winged variety) around with him all day and wearing a belaclava. He's either amphed beyond belief or completely insane. Personally leaning towards latter. Might make good "Witches Weekly" poll question.  
  
Alright, I know have been slack in filling this in the last few weeks, but as saying goes, "Only good girls keep diaries. Bad girls don't have the time."  
  
Cho must be writing army manuals by now.  
  
Waited for Luc in common room to accompany me to breakfast, but never showed up. Has been playing hooky from a few of our trysts lately. Oh well, am still very Luc-y in love. He he. Bloody Merlin, is it possible to be in love yet not be so impossibly Gryffindork cheesy? Am beginning to annoy even myself.  
  
9:09 AM  
  
Strange thing happened to me during breakfast this morning. Adrian was staring intently at doorway as I walked in, and seemed to have been waiting for me to arrive, because as soon as I'd sat down he got up and went over to Ravenclaw table. "Natalia," he began, "we need to talk."  
  
I cringed. Second only to "I don't do that," those have to be some of my least favourite four words put together. Out loud, I said, "Sure."  
  
Adrian glanced around at the students on either side of us, a foreign expression on his face. Realised with start that it was nervousness, which I had never before encountered on the visage of the Divine Mister Pucey. "I mean, somewhere more private?" he asked.  
  
"Okaaaay," I sighed, feeling more puzzled by the minute. Adrian didn't seem annoyed by my disgruntled behaviour. If anything, he even appeared to be concerned, which is a very un-Slytherin trait. He even took my arm as we walked out of Great Hall. At that point my eyebrows shot up to rafters.  
  
"What's on your mind?" I asked once we were standing outside the doors.  
  
"The thing is," Adrian shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, refusing to look me in the eye, "well, Natalia, I didn't really want to be the one to tell you this, but it seems as though A CERTAIN PERSON-" here his head briefly snapped up and there was anger in his eyes "-isn't going to mention anything, so it looks as though it's down to me. Now, when Slytherins tell these things to people, they usually say them only to hurt them, but that isn't my aim at all. I don't want to say this, but it looks as though I have no choice."  
  
"Adrian, what is it?" I asked him, feeling anxious. He was about to reply, then jerked his head up at the sound of approaching footsteps, looking like a caged deer. "I have to go now. I'll talk to you later," he whispered, then bolted.  
  
"Salut!" Luc said, then dropped a kiss on my lips. It was his footsteps I must have heard, I thought hazily as the sheer force of his closeness washed over me, and completely forgot about Adrian. "I am very sorry I was late. I hope you did not wait too long."  
  
"Not at all," I said, kissing him back. "Let's go inside, shall we?" Hand- in-hand, we walked over to the Ravenclaw table and sat down.  
  
Adrian was still looking at me.  
  
10:58 AM  
  
Had an even stranger conversation with Penelope after Potions, even bearing in mind Adrian's that morning and the talk I had with her in Moaning Myrtle's lair all those weeks ago.  
  
"Have you seen Adrian Pucey this morning?" she asked me as we walked out the classroom together, placing a hand upon my shoulder. "He was looking for you."  
  
Told her that I had and prepared to walk away. Her hand only tightened upon my shoulder. "It can't be easy, can it?" she asked sympathetically. "Look, I know we haven't always been on such good terms-" we're on good terms now? That's new to me "-but I'd just like you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I'm here?" She patted me consolingly on my shoulder and walked away.  
  
What is up with everyone? Adrian and Penelope being sympathetic is enough to make me think I'm tripping.  
  
Come to think of it, my potion did have a funny smell to it...  
  
7:56 PM  
  
Finally escaped from dinner just after eight. Malcolm had been boring me, and everyone else, even more than usual with a dissection with the autobiography of Ludo Bagman's he had been reading (it would be an "auto"biography. Egotistical maniac). By end of it even Bombardino was yawning. The rest of our house, it seems, has flung itself into party mode. Everyone seems excited about tomorrow's game except the actual team involved. We're just sick to death of hearing about it.  
  
So I was exiting the Great Hall with these mutinous thoughts in mind when I collided with Luc [A/N - Is it just me or does fan fiction seem to have a lot of walking around corners and colliding into people? I know I do it too]. "Luc, you have no idea how happy I am to see you," I gushed. "Even for Hogwarts, I've had the strangest day. Adrian has been acting even weirder than usual and everyone seems to want to have-"  
  
"Natalia, a word please," he said, taking me by the hand and leading me around a corner [A/N - yet another one! Hogwarts mustn't have a single hallway that is longer than three metres]. "I need to say something to you."  
  
My heart rate quickened. This is it. This is when he tells me that he loves me. Am waiting for the candles to dim and the violins to start up any second now. Strange now, that I've been waiting my whole life for someone to tell me that they love me, and it feels almost anticlimactic. "Yes?" I purred, pouting up at him.  
  
Luc closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. "I think we should call it off," he said.  
  
"What?" I gasped. "What did you just say?"  
  
"I don't think this is working out," Luc continued. "I think this is going too quickly and you are taking it far more seriously than I thought you would. And you are not the only one. You see, um, Natalia, Sandrine and I have been boyfriend and girlfriend now, for almost eighteen months."  
  
A hard knot formed itself beneath my ribcage.  
  
"We were both made Prefects in our fifth year," Luc continued. "We are still officially together, but when I went to England, we agreed it would be very hard. So we decided to have an open relationship. She knows about you."  
  
"Doesn't, uh, an open relationship kind of defeat the purpose of having a relationship?" I asked huskily. "I mean, how is it any different to friends with benefits?" It was like a puppeteer was pulling my strings, moving me along and forcing my mouth to open and shout for the words to come out, while I just watched listlessly and helplessly. I did not know why I had asked those questions. I did not want to find out the answers to those questions. And actually, the puppeteer was never the one pulling my strings. Luc was.  
  
"A friend with benefits, as you call it, is what we are," he told me, and my chest tightened at the coldness in his voice. "An open relationship is when you are committed to somebody with your heart, but you sleep with others. In an open relationship the person is your girlfriend, so you owe her more support and attention than you would if she were only your friend. I am not answerable to a friend in the same way I am answerable to her."  
  
"You owe me some answers," my lips moved softly. That puppeteer, once again. I, on the other hand, have to remind myself to breathe.  
  
"Yes, I believe I do," he said, and that time I could see the regret in his eyes. "When I first met you, I thought you were beautiful and fun, but I also thought that you would be the type of person who would sleep with me and not take it so seriously. I see now I made a misjudgement." He glanced at me, half as though he expected me to apologise for not fitting his perception of me. I kept my mouth shut. "I could tell you were getting serious about me, so I wanted to end things before you got hurt." And then, *drum roll please* came the classic: "I didn't mean to hurt you."  
  
Jeez, ya coulda fooled me, Luc. Imagine what you would do if you "really" tried to hurt someone, in that case. Voldie would have competition. "I'm not hurt," I said. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not worth being hurt over. You're an arsehole and you suck in bed. And I don't mean in a vampire way." Then I turned on my heel and walked slowly, serenely, gracefully out of the room, all the while trying to will the doorway nearer so that the seconds would not drag by before I was out of his sight. And I similarly glided down the stairs, oblivious to the first years running by and the heavy castle air biting into my skin, until I reached the dungeon area near the Potions classroom lair. The bathroom where Penelope and I had our conversation of a few weeks ago was deserted, as I knew it would be.  
  
Very few people ever see me cry. I know how to pick my moments.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Author's Note: Well, did I end that one on a sad note or what? Thank you as always to those who reviewed. With the end in sight I'm planning on about four more entries. Coming up in the next one is the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game, then Gryffindor's final match of the season against Hufflepuff and the Ravenclaw-Slytherin game in which Natalia and Cho have something very special planning for Dracola. The last ever entry will feature the truth and dare game to end all truth and dare games, and will resolve Natalia's romantic situation once and for all. So now you know I am still very much involved in this fic, despite huge assignments and exams looming. Woo hoo! Also, I'm short of a few Hufflepuffs, so if you want to be in match between them and Gryffindor, just leave the name you want me to use and what position you want to play. You never know, they may actually win... 


	15. Disintegration

Author's Note: Well, you all knew it was too good to be true, didn't you? Triforce Knight and shewhodares, take note that I have both Caity Trillan and Verity Vector down as Hufflepuff Chasers. You may also get a bit of a shock when you find out who your new captain and Seeker is, particularly in his relationship to a character previously covered (claps hand over mouth).  
  
I also realised that Delacourt is actually Delacour in the Goblet of Fire, but I feel too lazy to go back and change it. So it stays as Delacourt.  
  
Anyway, without further ado...  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry Fifteen: Disintegration  
  
3:48 AM, October 15th  
  
Okay, is getting very ridiculous. Very apparent that will not get a shred more sleep tonight and since sleeping in not an option with Quidditch match against the Gryffs tomorrow, best way, as Roger says, to get up early is to stay up.  
  
Had gotten up earlier and crept over to fifth year boys dorm, because was looking for some solace (and, er, other stuff) from Roger, only to find Adrian in bed with his arms wrapped around him, moaning, "Cedar, oh my Cedar."  
  
So that's how Roger knew Adrian was gay. I, meanwhile, mourn the ineligibility and heterosexuality of one of the few hot guys left in Hogwarts.  
  
3:51 AM  
  
Waddled down to common room in Penelope's pink bathrobe with bunny rabbits and Vanessa's Ugg boots (which live up to their name). No longer care about appearance since don't have Luc, and never really had him anyway, well, at least not to myself. Roger already downstairs in Quidditch robes. "Thought I might find you down here before too long," he said. "Adrian told me everything." One of the great ironies of high school, wizarding or not, is that last person to find out about things like your boyfriend having a girlfriend back in France and never really being your boyfriend in first place, is the person it matters to. "How are you holding up?"  
  
"Okay," I nodded, sitting down beside him and trying not to think of him and Adrian together. My face flushed as I concentrated on coffee table in front of us.  
  
Roger gave me an assessing look, then shifted a fraction of an inch closer to me. "I know I couldn't have sprung this on you at a worse time, but I have bad news for you," he began.  
  
"You're gay," I said.  
  
"What?" Roger blinked.  
  
"Nothing," I muttered. "So, what's your bad news?" Hearing new bad news after being exhausted by the old is like pouring water on top of an already- soaked sponge. It can only take so much before it ceases to have an effect, and any extra just doesn't have an impact anymore.  
  
"I just got back from the hospital wing," Roger continued. "Cho's taken bad. Pomfrey says it's the flu. She won't be able to play tomorrow, and it's too late to request for the match to be postponed-"  
  
"I'll play as the Seeker," I cut in, correctly reading his thoughts.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asked anxiously, looking over at me. Oh, is so cute and adorable when he does that. Yep, he would be too good to be hetero. "I mean, it's the best solution for everyone, but you've had a lot on your plate lately. If it's too much for you-"  
  
"It's fine," I said briskly. "The more I have to think about, the better."  
  
"Alright then," he said, "but just be careful you don't give yourself too much to think about, if you know what I mean. You need time to get over what happened between you and Delacourt, even if you don't enjoy doing it-"  
  
"I'll be fine," I cut him off, then felt guilty about the brief, hurt look on his face. "Thanks for your concern though. So, who will be our second Beater now?"  
  
"I will," he said simply. "I lived in Louisiana for two years - that's where I learnt my French - and played baseball while I was there; it's a Muggle sport that involves hitting a ball about the size of a Bludger; so I feel pretty comfortable with a bat in my hands. Clearwater can take my usual place. She played Quidditch in our second year and was pretty good at it, but decided it took too much time away from her studies." Despite my misery I rolled my eyes. Bloody typical. "So it's not my first choice team but we'll manage. Oh, and Nat-"  
  
"I know," I said. "Don't try to match Potter for speed, he's smaller than I am. Don't try to look for the Snitch myself, mark him instead-"  
  
Roger raised one hand to interrupt me. "Actually, I was going to ask you to try and get some sleep between now and breakfast time," he said. "Would you like some chocolate? I have some in my pocket from Pomfrey."  
  
"Luc's always teasing me about my weight," I said.  
  
"Well, that's one less thing you have to worry about now, isn't it?" Roger asked me.  
  
"I guess," I relented a little. "One piece won't hurt." Roger snapped the chocolate into two pieces, then reached over and handed one half to me. Suddenly I snapped. I had to know for certain. "You said Adrian told you about Luc," I said. "When did you get the chance to talk to him?"  
  
"Funny you say that," Roger admitted, shifting uncomfortably on his seat. "He actually told me after our last class, when you ran off right after the bell because you wanted to get to the library." I had wanted to leave so quickly because I had arranged to meet Luc in the serial department, but Roger, thankfully, had avoided mentioning that. "But this morning I woke up and got one hell of a right to find him with his arms wrapped around me, groaning, "Cedar, Cedar." Stupid git was plastered off his face and thought he'd found a secret passage into the Hufflepuff boys' dormitories, and that I was his ex. Since I don't know any one by the name of Cedar, I can only assume that he must have some sort of fetish for wood. Quite fitting as I hear those Hufflepuffs were a but dense."  
  
"Bloody Merlin," I breathed, "I thought-"  
  
"You thought what?" Roger asked, narrowing his eyes at me.  
  
"That Adrian was shagging a Gryffindor," I blurted out. "And that your remark for having a fetish for wood, was, you know, a reference to-"  
  
Roger was doubled over with laughter. "Oh c'mon Nat, Gryffindors are far too proper, not to mention boring, to be gay. And one of them and a Slytherin? Not in our lifetime. Where were you when I was making all those cracks about, "I'll HUFF and I'll PUFF and I'll blow your house down"?"  
  
"Yeah, it was a pretty stupid thing to think," I said, a smile crossing my lips. "You had me worried for a minute there."  
  
"Why would you be worried?" he asked.  
  
"No reason," I shrugged. "Just Adrian and a Gryffindor-"  
  
"Just eat your chocolate before you say anything else stupid," Roger ordered, kicking me playfully with one foot. "Although I have to say, I'm glad to see a smile on you for once." I obligingly stuffed a section into my mouth. As the warmth crept slowly through my body, I felt fully relaxed for the first time since Luc's and my conversation. "I'm going back upstairs now," I said. "Good night, Roger."  
  
"Sleep tight," he replied as I pushed open the door to the girl's dorm.  
  
9:36 AM  
  
"Don't worry, I feel really amphed for today," Penelope was telling Alessandro Bombardino. "I know it's been a long time since I've played Quidditch, but riding a broom is like riding a bike. Once you know how, you never forget."  
  
"What's a bike?" Bombardino asked.  
  
We were clustered around the changing room prior to the ten AM start. If the Gryffindorks, who had already belted out a corny cheer from their changing room and zoomed out, had seen what was within the blue and bronze striped walls, they would have known that they had it bagged. Malcolm Brocklehurst was sitting on the leather couch with his head in his hands, Vanessa Johnson rubbing his back consolingly. Luc was sitting in a corner solo and gazing up at the ceiling, whether from nerves or Natalia avoidance tactics, I'll never know. Probably a combination of both. Roger was wrapping tape around my bat to thicken the handle to accommodate his bigger gripp.  
  
The only ones showing the slightest amount of cheer were Penelope and Bombardino, with Penny (DID I JUST CALL HER BY A NICKNAME OTHER THAN "CLEARHEAD"? LOOK, I'M MEANT TO HATE THE GIRL!) trying to explain to the pureblood Bombardino exactly what a bike was, with varying degrees of success.  
  
"Well, a bike is a Muggle object similar to a broom," she was telling Bombardino, "in that its used for riding on."  
  
"Like Getrude Bulstrode?" Bombardino suggested. Gertude Bulstrode was a sixth year Slytherin girl who was like both a broom and a bike in that everyone got on her.  
  
"No," Penelop- um, Clearhead, corrected him patiently. "A bike is something you get on, and you use it for transportation-"  
  
"So it is like Getrude Bulstrode," Bombardino finished triumphantly. "I hear she's alright in the sack. She's taken Flint a few places." Penny- oh Clearwater-head, oh fuck it, started to protest, then realised he was grinning at her. Bombardino, making a joke? Me, playing Seeker opposite Pothead and being dumped instead of the dumpee? The world really has been tipped onto its head.  
  
Roger had finished taping up my bat and gave it and experimental swing, then smiled, apparently pleased with the results. "Alright everyone," he said, "let's roll."  
  
11:54 AM  
  
"...And Chaser Johnson of Gryffindor speeds towards the goal, swerves to avoid a Bludger struck by Ravenclaw captain Davies - where did that boy learn to hit those things? - and, oh shit- sugar- sorry, Professor, drops the Quaffle. Chaser Clearwater swoops on it - is that a Bludger, no, Bombardino intercepts it - neat dummy to Ravenclaw's Brocklehurst - argh, Wood gets sent the wrong way - Brocklehurst scores, bloody Merlon! Whoops, sorry Professor, ninety-twenty to Ravenclaw."  
  
Was floating above the Ravenclaw-dominated Quidditch carnage of the Keepers, Beaters and Chasers of each team, Lee Jordan's usual unbiased commentary echoing in the back of my mind. Malcolm had just zoomed off to high-five Penelope, who was demonstrating a previously uncharted knack for the sport. The Gryffindor Chasers were making their morose way back to the centre of the field for Madame Hooch to release the Quaffle, which is customary for Quidditch when a goal is scored. Everything going better than expected, but plus side of being a cynic is that is very easy for things to exceed expectations.  
  
Felt rush of air as Harry Pothead darted behind me, more to shake me off his tail than because had actually seen the Snitch (and they accuse Slytherins of feinting), but quickly cut him off. No one outmanoeuvres me, especially a kid with a hairdo like that.  
  
"-And Bombardino blocks Spinnet from a clear shot on goal with a Bludger nowhere in the area - that's a penalty, Madame Hooch! - and the sagely referee has no choice but to award Gryffindor a penalty for that shameless foul-"  
  
"What about shameless bias?" I muttered. "Commendictator." Next to me Potter giggled. Below us Angelina Johnson squared up to Vanessa, sister against sister. Vanessa saved but could not hold onto the shot, allowing Katie Bell to score from the rebound. I swore as Jordan crowed.  
  
"You've still got a long way to go, tiny," I scowled down at my ex-co- commentator, then caught Potter staring at me. Is quite cute really, can almost see what all the fuss is about him, oh hell no, not me too-  
  
About ten minutes later Luc had a tenth goal for Ravenclaw, the result of a clever solo run which had started when Vanessa had passed him the Quaffle after saving from Alicia Spinnet. Yes, bastard, "would" be the one scoring out of the two of us...smile, damn it, smile...  
  
A speck of gold darted in front of me - the Snitch! Plunged downwards after it, shifting slightly from side-to-side in order to cut off Potter with superior bulk (diet schmiet). Behind us the Ravenclaw faithful roared, Penelope had put one more away. We are drubbing them.  
  
OOF! Bludger crashed into my stomach, making my lungs tighten up as the air was forced out of me. Oxygen refused to come into my mouth, could feel my body closing up with lack of circulation, Snitch is dancing just in front of my eyes, I can reach it, I can...  
  
End of transmission.  
  
2:39 PM  
  
"That was a nasty fall she took." A high, female voice to my left, concerned.  
  
"Yeah, I cannot believe she didn't break anything." A gruff male voice above me, thickly accented, disappointed sounding. Must be Bombardino.  
  
I groan and roll over, willing myself to face the sunlight.  
  
The Ravenclaw Quidditch team, with the notable but expected exception of Luc, are clustered around the hospital bed I am lying in. Cho is hiccuping and sniffing miserably in pyjamas next to Roger, who has an arm around her shoulders.  
  
"She's conscious," Bombardino observed. If I thought he sound disappointed before, this is nothing compared to his disheartened tone now. Penelope must have picked up on it, because she glared from where she stood on my left over my bed at him. "What a relief," he added unconvincingly.  
  
"Nat, we were so worried about you!" Penelope cried, giving Bombardino a significant look. "When you lost your balance like that, it was the loudest thud imaginable when you finally landed-"  
  
"-We were expecting permanent brain damage at the least," Vanessa nodded.  
  
"Well, not much would be different then," Bombardino added sourly. Penelope and Roger shot him simultaneous molten looks.  
  
"Yeah, the way you kept on flying after Fred Weasley had walloped that Bludger into your stomach," Malcolm continued, "that was really impressive. Even the Gryffindors were impressed. I think they feel guilty that they won- "  
  
"Wait a minute," I cut him off. "We LOST?"  
  
No one replied, but the glum looks were answer enough. "So the only way we can win the cup," I faltered, "is if we win against Slytherin in two weeks time, and they lose to Hufflepuff next Saturday?" Roger nodded solemnly. "Like that's ever going to happen! Oh, if only I was quicker-"  
  
"I need to talk to Nat, alone," Roger said quickly. "Everyone else, out."  
  
"But I'm supposed to be here," Cho said hoarsely.  
  
"Well, go and lie in your bed and pull the blankets up over your head so you can't hear what we're saying," Roger told her. "The rest of you, out." My teammates filed out of the room, Vanessa mouthing "Get well soon" before she disappeared through the doorway. Roger waited until Cho had retired to her bunk, then pulled the curtains around my bed and kicked off his shoes.  
  
"What are you doing?" I asked him.  
  
"Sh," he said, sliding under the blankets with me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"  
  
"No, you're fine," I said, "but Merlin, I really hope you don't do this with Bombardino when he's had a bad game."  
  
"Natalia, you did not have a bad game," Roger told me sternly. "In fact, you had the best game I have ever seen from someone in blue robes since Trevor Boot left the school. There's nothing to be ashamed of. And besides, my dad always told me that it's not considered failure if it was something that was beyond you in the first place. You are bloody terrific, but Potter is, well, sublime. He could play for England. And he's smaller and faster than you. You did brilliantly to contain him for as long as you did. Now, no more negativity, alright?"  
  
"Alright," I agreed. Roger's speech, although on paper not one I would pick for its soothing qualities, was strangely comforting.  
  
"At the end of the day, its only Quidditch," Roger continued. My mouth dropped open. Is this really our fearless leader talking? "We're all alive. We're all well. That's what's important. Now, are you going to get some sleep?"  
  
"Are you going to stay here?" I asked him.  
  
"Fine," he said, and pulled me closer to him. I felt his fingers toy with my hair as I drifted off into oblivion.  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
A/N: So those bloody Gryffindorks pull through again, eh? I was going to be mean and leave it on a cliffhanger and have the hospital part in the next entry, but at the last minute I changed my mind. And it's not too late if you want to play for Hufflepuff in the next entry.  
  
Terra-incognito: Good to hear from you again. I actually decided to leave the whole Basilisk part out since it would dampen the mood a little, and have since been mourning a missed opportunity to make sexual innuedoes about people's snakes. Sorry.  
  
Shewhodares: I think Poppy Skeeter would be a great narrator for a diary fic. Go for it!  
  
The rest of you, thanks for reviewing and see you at the Gryffindor- Hufflepuff game. Only three more entries to go, woo hoo! 


	16. Oh Cedar, My Cedar

Author's Note: So sorry I took so long to get this up, which I credit to a combination of exam stress and excitement about my new fic, which details Arthur and Molly Weasley's courtship. I was short of ideas when I started this entry and was going to combine the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game and the Ravenclaw-Slytherin game entries, but then I got some good ideas and this one just wrote itself. Got to love it when that happens.  
  
I also must introduce "Natalia Adani and the Boys of Hogwarts" baby sister fic, "Poppy Skeeter's Very Secret Diary." It basically features Rita Skeeter's daughter (don't you already feel sorry for the poor girl) and her diary of her time at Hogwarts. As I write this the first two entries are up and it promises to be very good! It's on my "Favourite Stories" page if you want to check it out.  
  
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Entry Sixteen: Oh Cedar, My Cedar  
  
11:16 PM, October 18th  
  
Two mid-terms down. Five to go. One assignment to make up. Four hours of sleep last night. Male friend wants to be more than a male friend. I have a headache (this and the preceding sentence are in no way connected). House Elves just ran out of regular coke. That is basically a summary of my life right now and why I have neglected this poor, little, sordid thing known as my diary for so long. Clearhead has been singing Beatles song "With a Little Help from My Friends" all evening, hence the headache.  
  
I could do with a bit less help from "my" friend right now.  
  
Okay, this is how it went down. 1:47 AM last night (technically this morning, should I be in Hufflepuff or what?): Bombardino hates me. 1:48 AM last night: Yup, Bombardino still hates me. 1:52 AM last night: Bombardino wants to have mad, passionate Italian sex with me. And let me tell you, there is no sex like Italian sex. Especially if it's mad. And passionate. But I digress. Wait, you'd rather hear about mad, passionate Italian sex? That's your problem, you sick bastard. And it's my diary too, you know. Actually, I don't even know why I'm sharing it with you. Go away and read Cho's.  
  
Okay, so maybe I don't blame you for being in mine...  
  
Anyway, was lying in bed doing some light reading (or reminiscing, since was copy of Karma Sultra) when he comes charging in, panting, "Ti desidero! Spogliati!"  
  
Now this shows how smart (or jumped up - they both mean the same to me) we Italians are. Instead of having to use four stinking words to ask (or demand) someone to take their clothes off, we have just one. "Spogliati." And let's face, there are times when you don't even want to wait to say "that."  
  
Rest of conversation continued in Italian, but even though technically this is "my" diary, I will translate it into English since I am a very giving person - but I expect something in return. Like foot massages.  
  
N: Wha'?  
  
B: I said I wanted you! So take off your clothes.  
  
N: *4#@&%#**))&%##^*)(@$?????  
  
B: Come on, Natalia. Let's show these boring English people how it's really done!  
  
N: Um, judging by the amount of offspring they have, I'd say the Weasleys at least know how it's really done. And I don't relish the idea of teaching Percy Weasley anything in that department. That's why God created Clearwaters. And anyway, I thought you hated me. You broke my arm with a Bludger, remember?  
  
B: Yeah, but that was when I was going through an experimental phase.  
  
N: What the fuck is with guys here?  
  
B: No, but I'm definitely straight now. At least, I think I am. I'll know for sure after I fuck you.  
  
N: Oh, isn't that nice. How romantic. Nora Roberts would really dig that one. Why don't you just say it with flowers? Now if you don't mind, I'd like to go back to my book.  
  
B: (looks down and sees what I'm reading). Ooh, the Karma Sultra! Merlin, that brings back memories. That was my favourite book in my third year.  
  
N: Third year?  
  
B: But the classics always need to be revisited, right? (sits down on bed next to me and flicks through pages) I've always like this one.  
  
N: Hmm, that does look nice...Hey, that is "not" allowed!  
  
B: Sorry. Have you ever been to India?  
  
N: Nope.  
  
B: Okay, then. Sit on my lap and I'll be India.  
  
N: That was terrible. You're a disgrace to every breathing Italian male.  
  
B: Okay, how's this: Your father must have been a thief, because he stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes.  
  
N: The way I'm glaring at you, I would have thought that they'd resemble black holes more, but never mind. That was even worse. Are you sure you're not Sicilian?  
  
B: I most certainly am not.  
  
N: Oh-kay. This may take some work. I know! You're a Ravenclaw. Try reciting some poetry.  
  
B: Oh baby, baby, how was I supposed to know/ That something wasn't ri- ight/ Oh pretty baby, I shouldn't have let you go-oh-  
  
N: AHH! I SAID "RECITING POETRY," NOT "INCITING POETRY!" And you're supposed to be seducing me, not trying to make me jump out of a window! Bombardino, you must have definitely lost it with a Hufflepuff, because a girl from that house would be the only one capable of pitying you enough to take away your virginity!  
  
B: WAAAAHHH!  
  
N: Oh fuck.  
  
B: (stops crying) Really? You mean it?  
  
N: No, just a figure of expression (Bombardino starts sniffing again). Look, why don't you go over to Clearhead's bed? Her and Weasel are going through an "off" period. Or skip across the hall to the sixth years' dorm and introduce Vanessa to Little Alessandro.  
  
B: It is not so little. Look, I'll prove it to.  
  
N: Er, I'll take your word for it. Kind of like when George Weasel offered to prove he's natural redhead. No go play, okay? (Bombardino runs out of the room. I breathe a sigh of relief).  
  
To quote Mae West, "His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork."  
  
* * * * *  
  
7:51 AM, October 22nd  
  
Hooray, the match day is finally here and time for us to all unite and bond with Gryffindorkers and Gryffinstalkers (well, I had to make up a separate category for Colin Creevey, didn't I?) as they take over the bloody world.  
  
Pardon me while I gag myself with my mascara wand.  
  
8:34 AM  
  
Figured out Huffleduffers needed all luck they could get, so prepped by wearing my lucky leopard print thong (g-string to all non-yanks). Gold is close enough to Hufflepuff colours, right? And if I lose pre-season bet to Adrian, at least I'll co-ordinate with the losing team and losers when am required to streak around the pitch.  
  
Really hope Hufflepuff win.  
  
9:18 AM  
  
Went to Ravenclaw tower early to claim good seat only to find Cho there first, obviously wearing padded bra under t-shirt that says, "Sexual Intellectual" across bust. Jeez, she's only thirteen. And she's Cho. What is up with that?  
  
"Any news on today?" I ask, sitting down next to her.  
  
"Yeah," she replied. "Hufflepuff have completely made over their team. They kept that one really good Beater they have, but they've got two new Chasers, Caity Trillan and Verity Vector. They're both very good! And, and," she started to blush, "my friend has replaced Ernie MacMillan as the Seeker. He'll be captaining today."  
  
"Is that the reason for the shirt and the breasts?" I asked her.  
  
"These are mine!" she squealed, puffing up with indignation.  
  
"Right, and I'm Marcus's Flint," I said as Clearhead came up the stairs. "She" is wearing a shirt that flashes "I will not be pressured into underage sex. I am a volunteer" across the bust every few seconds. Yeeep.  
  
"You're revolting," she told me.  
  
"You're the one with the fake boobs," I respond calmly. Best way to bait people is to stay deadpan.  
  
"No, I'm not!" Penelope squealed.  
  
"I was talking about Cho, but thanks for sharing the fact that you're Wonderbra's greatest customer - well, I can't really use "biggest," can I, since you obviously wouldn't be there," I told her.  
  
Penelope shrieked and launched herself at me. As did Cho. Yep, fake nails do hurt.  
  
"So, Adrian," a voice spoke above the three of us, "reckon this is the closest we'll ever get to watching a lesbian threesome? Wish I had my camera."  
  
Adrian and Warrington had decided to pay a visit. Methinks Warrington would quite like leopard-print thongs.  
  
Really, really hope Hufflepuff win.  
  
9:56 AM  
  
Kick-off approaching. Have spotted Caity Trillan and Verity Vector, a tall dark-haired girl with hair cut in a "I'm a serious athlete, therefore I must look as butch as possible" blunt bob. Although come to think of it, could use a few more lezzers around the school to balance out the likes of Adrian and his Cedar.  
  
Okay, even I did not mean to make that last bit sound quite so revolting.  
  
Cho suddenly squealed and grabs my arm. As did Penelope on other side of me, making me feel as though I am trapped in a vice made of excessive female pheromones. "And fourth year Cedric Diggory, the new Hufflepuff captain, strides onto the field and shakes hands with Gryffindor captain Oliver Wood," Lee Jordan boomed. Jeez, you'd think the rest of the stadium is blind, the blow-by-blow detail he insists on spooling through. This isn't a freakin' Hemmingway novel. Although Diggory quite yummy. Perhaps should shag him to piss off Luc, who is over in Slytherin stand with Zoe Zabini (grrr).  
  
Vanessa, who arrived very late with Bombardino (yay!) was blushing. As was Adrian???? Wait a second. Hufflepuff? Fifteen? Cedric...CEDAR?  
  
OH MY GOD.  
  
Guess sleeping with Hufflepuff captain for revenge ruled out. Why, oh why, did I persuade Bombardino to shag Vanessa? Is pretty sexy and has an accent, if can ignore the fact that totally hate him. And will now have to have very long talk with Cho after match. Hearts will be broken.  
  
Okay, perhaps are plus sides to Cedric being gay after all. Mwahh ha ha.  
  
12:35 PM  
  
Game on, and not just between Adrian and Cedric. Hufflepuff doing better than expected. Unlike MacMillan, Caity and Verity are not afraid of heights, their one good Beater is slugging them for all he's worth, and Cedric - wow, that kid "can" fly.  
  
Although Adrian could have told me that. Not that I wanted to ask, that is.  
  
Although being friends with a hot gay couple does have interesting voyeuristic possibilities...  
  
Er, no.  
  
12:39 PM  
  
Hufflepuff doing well, but trailing fifty to seventy. Things have got to improve. If they win will go on hedonistic bender with whole team and show them that at least bad does not mean boring.  
  
Except maybe Verity.  
  
Bloody Merlin, here comes the Snitch! Cedric and Pothead are tailing it, but Pothead smaller and on a faster broom. He will get it - he will surely - Penelope and Cho clinging to each other and Bombardino looks ready to leap out of tower and grab Snitch himself. Can see all of season's hard work trailing away before my eyes. Vanessa screaming in my ear to "DO SOMETHING! DO SOMETHING!"  
  
So I did. I pulled up my shirt and introduced Harry to another pair of twins. His mouth fell open and he stopped. Cedric didn't. Game Hufflepuff.  
  
At least now Mary Sues know that Pothead isn't gay. If they don't skin me alive for making their precious house lose the Cup, that is.  
  
So it's between us and Slytherin now. Oh joy. Bring on the slimy tactics. And Malfoy's hair grease. Didn't anyone tell him that Brycleam is so 1950s?  
  
Well, we should have a good chance next Saturday. That is, if I don't get distracted by the atrocities in hair dos that are Malfoy and Flint.  
  
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Fiery Wordess: Like the nick ;p Thanks for joining us and hope you enjoyed the rest of the fic once fanfiction.net let you upload.  
  
Herringprincess: Yeah, it must just kill Natalia that she thinks Harry is cute. Her romantic situation will finally be resolved next (and the last) entry.  
  
Shewhodares: Yes, you were bang on with Cedric being Adrian's paramour (as a "G" rated way of putting it). I was hoping someone figured it out, I dropped a few hints such as Cho looking in the same direction as Adrian in Hogsmeades (Entry 11) and her telling Roger about having a Hufflepuff friend who is good at Quidditch (Entry 14).  
  
TWO MORE ENTRIES TO GO! 


	17. Oh Captain, My Captain!

Author's Note: This entry is dedicated to Lorna, who begged me (to no avail) to try and get this up before she went home for the semester holiday to an internet-free house. Sorry babe, at least it will be waiting for you when you come back. I also must apologise for the amount of Hufflepuff jokes in this entry. I quite like them but Nat and Roger clearly don't.  
  
After much deliberation I have also decided to make this a "R" rating. I don't think it's as full-on as some other "Rs" out there, but just to be safe. I've also majorly screwed up on some dates for previous entries. Entry 14 is October 24/25, Entry 15 is October 25 and Entry 16 is October 28/November 1. I'll correct the dates eventually.  
  
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Chapter Seventeen: Oh Captain, My Captain!  
  
In which Natalia, with a little help from a friend/foe/freak, makes a startling discovery about herself...  
  
11:07 AM, November 7th  
  
Weird random with Katie "Moo" Bell after Potions just now. Got stuck behind her massive, well, behind on way out of dungeon and was about to ask her to "mooooooooove" it when turned around and said, "Oh, good luck for the game tomorrow, Natalia."  
  
"Wha'?" I blinked.  
  
"Good luck tomorrow," Moo repeated, smiling tentatively. "You know, I always thought it would be between us and you guys, since we're the teams with the most women on them and women are just so much better at multi- tasking than men, but for what it's worth, I hope you win tomorrow." She smiled again and walked off down the hall.  
  
Okay, I know I drive men crazy, but this is getting out of hand. I mean, last week a Mary Sue popped up claiming she was "my" girlfriend. Now Katie wants to make the "mooooooves" on me. Yeech.  
  
5:46 PM  
  
"So how's that special move with Malfoy coming along?" Roger asked me. "And Natalia, I really hope it won't be the same as the one used with Potter last weekend. If you get us any more detentions there'll be a house with less points than Hufflepuff for only the second time in the entire history of Hogwarts."  
  
Had just finished our final practice before big crunch with Slytherin tomorrow and were heading back to unfortunately separate showers. "Unfortunate" because since Luc wimped out - er, flooed back - to Beauxbatons, is by far hottest guy on team. Even is captain. Oh dear god, must remember that is captain. Oh captain, my captain...SHUT UP NATALIA!  
  
"Nat?" Roger staring at me. I was expected to answer that question?  
  
"Oh." I tried to round up my thoughts. "Yeah. Great. Really great."  
  
"I know that it's something just you and Cho have been working on," Roger continued, "and I respect that. But I must say I'm a little concerned, given that you say the move involves Cho, Malfoy and yourself, yet I've only ever seen the two of you working together without a third person, and you won't tell me what it's all about."  
  
"What you don't know won't hurt you," I muttered.  
  
Roger gave me sharp look. "What you're doing "is" legal, isn't it?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah," I shrugged. "Perfectly. You know the drill. If we don't get caught, we didn't do it."  
  
"I don't like the sound of that, Nat," Roger warned.  
  
"You don't have to," I told him. "You just have to like what it does to his face. Actually, now that I think about it, he's so ugly that I may actually be doing him a favour."  
  
"Perhaps you should just abandon the move then," Roger suggested eagerly. "You know what they say about Slytherins. It's never good to do them a favour. Give them an inch of Floo Powder and they'll run off to Calcutta with your money and your girlfriend."  
  
"Or your boyfriend," I echoed. "You know, I still can't believe him. Saying he wants more space and that he wanted to drop things with us because we're getting too serious and he has a girlfriend back home, and then shagging Zoe Zabini. What's she got that I haven't got?"  
  
"At the moment, Luc's saliva," Roger replied. Were both silent for a moment, walking back towards the school in the bright sun. The bare sky was that deep clear blue that you only usually get in the middle of summer on a cloudless day, not when it is late October in Scotland and you are facing the meanest team in the school the next day. Come to think of it, sky the same colour as Quidditch robes. Hope it is omen. Then Roger took me by the arm, stopping me in my tracks. "I want you to know," he said, "that just because Luc is through with you, it doesn't mean that everyone else wants to be. And just because he thought your body was the best thing about you, it doesn't mean that everyone else thinks it is. And just because he only wanted you for the sex, it doesn't mean that it's all anyone else will ever want from you. I just wanted you to know that."  
  
There was no one else around. Just the grass, the sky like a dome above us and me and Roger, and Roger holding my arm. It felt like we were the only living things in one of those snowcones with the flakes and the stupid smiling plastic snowman in it, but there was no snow and no snowman, just Roger and I, and Roger holding my arm. I suddenly felt as though I had too many secrets to keep from him, and yet none at all. "Uh, thank you," I said, pulling my arm away. "I have to go shower now. I'll see you at dinner." I turned around and walked away, my footsteps going torturously slowly across the grass and not far away from him quickly enough.  
  
Usually this calls for a cold shower. But I think even that would only scratch the surface of my problems when it comes to Roger.  
  
6:53 PM  
  
Arrived at dinner an hour later and in no mood for a conversation, but Adrian had other ideas. And when a Slytherin has other ideas, well, sucks to be you. "If we win tomorrow, will you have sex with Warrington?" he asked me, propping himself up on his elbow next to me.  
  
"No."  
  
"So you think that there's a likelihood that you won't win tomorrow?"  
  
"No."  
  
Adrian grinned like a fox, then plunged right in. "So, then, you claim to believe that you have it in the bag, and you obviously don't want to sleep with Warrington. Yet when I propose a bet on the results of tomorrow's game which would involve you sleeping with Warrington, you seem too afraid to take the chance. Which would then lead me to believe that you think there is a chance you could lose tomorrow. Am I right?"  
  
Could only scowl at him. Most Slytherins are pretty cunning, but absolutely hate the few that actually have the intelligence to go with that cunning.  
  
"Now we've established that," Adrian continued without even bothering to wait for an answer (there wasn't one I could give him), "who are you talking to the Winter's Eve Ball next weekend?"  
  
"I haven't really thought about it yet," I said, leaping onto the change of topic. "To be honest with you, I've been going through an anti-male phase after the whole Luc debacle. Well, even more of an anti-male phase than usual," I amended myself at Adrian's raised eyebrow. "I just have no interest in them right now."  
  
"So you're not taking anyone?" Adrian asked me.  
  
"Looks like it," I replied. "I guess I'll have to find someone eventually though."  
  
"Of course you do," Adrian said. "You have the best breasts in the school. It will upset the natural order if you don't take a date."  
  
"Wonderbra has the best breasts in the school," I corrected him.  
  
"I won't tell," Adrian shrugged. "And the only other person who knows is Lucy, and if he tells it won't make it look as good on his part. Your secret's safe with us. Anyway, if you don't have anyone in mind I would really appreciate it if you took Cedric. See, I'm going stag and Daddy would flip out if he knew his son favoured the "out" door over the "in" door, if you get what I mean."  
  
"Unfortunately I do," I said. "And I just consumed about a pint of grease with these fries. If you want me to hear you out continue with a PG rating."  
  
"Sorry. Forgot how prudish people get after a breakup, and they're no longer getting regular sex but everyone else still is-"  
  
"Adrian-"  
  
"Alright, alright, don't get your g-string in a knot," Adrian held up both hands. "Personally I think you should have moved on by now. It's been two weeks and the bastard isn't worth a millisecond of your time. But if you want to wallow - which is terrible for the complexion, incidentally, just take Cedric. He's a Hufflepuff. He's good with wallowers. They're the only ones that have patience for them."  
  
"I was actually assuming that I'd go with Roger," I said. I don't want to be anyone's pity date. "You know, we're both single and best friends and wanted by everyone else in the school; it's the perfect match."  
  
"That's a reasonable assumption," Adrian said. "But you're wrong."  
  
"How so?" I demanded.  
  
"Well, at least Roger seems to think you're wrong," Adrian continued. "He's going to the ball with Katie Bell."  
  
My mouth dropped open. Adrian observed me calmly, almost nonchalantly. Little bastard. "Roger asked Moo to the ball?" I finally managed.  
  
"Nope," Adrian shrugged.  
  
"But they're going to the ball as a-as a couple," I persisted.  
  
"Yep," Adrian responded.  
  
"Adrian, will you stop being so damn vague and tell me what this is all about?" I snapped.  
  
"Temper, temper," Adrian drawled, coolly raising one eyebrow. "What are you so mad about anyway?"  
  
"I'm not mad," I frowned.  
  
"Sorry. It must have only been one of those voices in my head that yelled at me just seconds ago. Use your brain, Natalia. Roger is going to the ball with Katie, yet he did not ask her to go. The only other possibility is that she invited him. I would have thought that you out of all girls with your libido - er, "liberated" nature - would have stumbled upon that possibility."  
  
"So that's why she was so nice to me in Transfig today," I mused. "I thought she just wanted to wish me luck for tomorrow when all along she was blotted to steal my boyf- my best friend. That bitch!"  
  
"I thought she was a cow," Adrian observed. "One of the worst traits in a woman is indecisiveness. Do make up your mind, Natalia."  
  
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I growled.  
  
"Why would I be enjoying this?" Adrian asked.  
  
"Don't answer a question with a question," I glowered across the table at him.  
  
"I'm a Slytherin. Rules don't apply to me," Adrian returned my stare levelly. "The only way I would be enjoying this is if you were infatuated with Roger, which you clearly aren't, being far too original to go for a bloke who is not only - strike one: your prefect - strike two: your captain, but - strike three: your best friend - and you are OUT, of love, girlfriend!"  
  
"I am going to tell the entire Slytherin team about how you watch Muggle sports," I threatened him.  
  
"Well, I'm not watching the "game," per se, unless you take the second of the double meaning of the word "game"," Adrian smirked. "Quidditch players just don't wear those arse-groping white pants. So I assume that you're taking Cedric to the ball?" I didn't reply. "Splendid! I'm going stag, so I'll want him for later. Just don't teach him any bad habits in the meantime. It took me months to stop him from shoving his tongue into my mouth the instant our lips made contact as if my mouth was an *ahem* and his tongue was an *ahem*-"  
  
"I SAID I DIDN'T WANT TO KNOW!"  
  
"So it's a date then?" Adrian reacted as though had merely inquired after weather and not leaned across table to scream in his face. "Wonderful! And dearest, sleep well tonight." He rose to his feet and sashayed out of the Great Hall.  
  
10:51 PM  
  
Oooooh those bloody Slytherins! Damn the whole lot of them to detention with Snape and dinner with a Blast-Ended Skrewt after a mass consumption of onions and hard-boiled eggs! Hate it when they're OBNOXIOUS! Hate it when they're SMIRKING! Hate it when they're TOO DAMN SMART FOR THEIR OWN GOOD!  
  
Hate it when they're right.  
  
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Well, as you may have noticed, no Ravenclaw/Slytherin game like I promised! That's because this one reached a natural closure and I thought, why keep people waiting while I comb through the sludge that is my brain matter for Quidditch match inspiration when this will suffice as an entry in itself? So, Raven/Slyth game should be up in a matter of hours. Until then, enjoy! 


	18. It's not the Batwings, Roger, it's Me

Author's Note: Well, whaddaya know, I had this all finished and ready before I went to bed, but, story of my life, the college internet system crashed and I was unable to upload it. I have also pushed the game back yet another chapter (bringing the total for this to twenty). Over the last couple of days I've had a lot more ideas than what I thought I would, and this one reached a natural closure point. I am writing the game chapter as I speak and it should be up in another couple of hours.  
  
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Chapter Eighteen: It's not the Batwings, Roger, it's Me  
  
12:56 AM, November 8th  
  
Sleep well my arse.  
  
1:05 AM  
  
Actually, since have been sitting down on hard common room stools for past two hours, arse is well and truly asleep. So that's where saying comes from. You learn something new every day, I guess.  
  
1:27 AM  
  
Arse still asleep. No go with the rest of me though.  
  
1:29 AM  
  
Fucking hell, I do like Roger.  
  
When the bloody Merlin did this happen? How did I let it happen? Was it when he put me to bed after the first time I'd had sex with Luc? Was it after I had those nine Firewhiskey shots on Halloween and he didn't bat an eyelid when I threw up on my sheets again minutes after he'd changed them? Was it even after he hit me with an Impedimenta when I was seconds away from hurling myself out of the library window to escape from the Mary Sues? Was there ever an exact time, and exact point where if I knew what was happening at the time, I could have stopped it, or it just sort of happen progressively? Either way am totally and utterly screwed. And not in the way I would like to be.  
  
1:36 AM  
  
Ah, can't sleep! Decided to get up and make drowsiness-inducing potion. Had to skip on the batwings thing but heard they were just to improve flavour anyway. How anything from a creature that looks like Snape and acts like Trelawney is supposed to improbe flavour is completely beyond this poor wittle fifth year...  
  
Oh well, down it goes.  
  
1:37 AM  
  
Hm, potion doesn't appear to be working but is giving me a nice buzz...  
  
2:06 AM  
  
Huh, really, what good is love? It's just a neverending cycle in which you like one person, get to know them, decide you don't like them anymore then move onto the next person and repeat process ad nauseam. Adrian is right. Lack of sex is putting me in bad mood. Roger Smodger. What I really need now is good roll in the Floo Powder. It is only, well, seven weeks away from the season of giving. Maybe Bombardino would be willing to be charitable and bestow me with a mercy lay?  
  
2:09 AM  
  
Now, Natalia, repeat after self (and refrain from talking to self while you're about it): IwillnotbegBombardinoforamercylayIwillnotbegBombardinoforamercylayIwillnotbe gBombardinoforamercylayIwillnotbegBombardinoforamercylayIwillnotbegBombardin oforamercylayIwillnotbegBombardinoforamercylayIwillnotbegBombardinoforamercy layIwillnotbegBombardinoforamercylayIwillnotbegBombardinoforamercylay..  
  
Oh bloody hell.  
  
2:23 AM  
  
Verdict: Bombardino a morning person, but most definitely not an "early" morning person. Yelled at me for about ten minutes about the importance of beauty sleep, especially before a big game. Did not buy my excuse about using sex as novel, fun warm-up. Finally did his bun and called me a vampire.  
  
Er, perhaps it wasn't best to wake him up by biting on his neck. And better yet not attempting to sleep with him at all. I mean, Bomba-freak-dino? What the hell was I thinking?  
  
Maybe batwings more important than I thought.  
  
2:40 AM  
  
Decided to wake up Roger, who laughed hysterically when told him what I had done. Apparently the absence of batwings in a sleep potion changes it into, well, an aphrodisiac. "Apparently"? Bloody hell, I "know" it does! But all I could do when waiting for Roger to finish making proper sleeping potion was stare at floor and stammer whenever he asked me a question. Lack of speech definite sign of infatuation, particularly for me. Bloody hell.  
  
"Cat got your tongue?" Roger asked as he added garlic into the mix. Now garlic is what "really" is just for flavour.  
  
"Actually I was kind of hoping that you would have it," I blurted out. "Eventually, that is."  
  
Looked at his face expecting him to appear shocked and dismayed, but actually saw him laughing. "The sleeping potion that wasn't talking again, is it?" he chuckled. "Don't worry, Nat, once this goes to the boil it will be done, I'll cast a cooling charm on it and then you can drink it. Should be in no time at all."  
  
An excited little burst caught in my brain. I could now say whatever I wanted to say to Roger, tell him exactly how I feel about him, and it would have no lasting consequences whatsoever because he wouldn't believe me! Never knew the absence of batwings could have such powerful indications.  
  
"Roger," I said, "you're one of the best-looking boys in the school, but not the best."  
  
"Ah, the aphrodisiac's beginning to wear off already," he grinned.  
  
"You could never be the best-looking boy at Hogwarts with Adrian, and Cedric, and - dare I Mary Sue it - Oliver Wood around," I continued. "And while Luc was still here, well, you were way out of the running. But even though you're not the best-looking boy in the school, I'd always thought of you as being the most attractive."  
  
Roger blinked.  
  
"While I was with Luc I wanted him all the time he was in the same room as me," I said, edging around the table he was brewing the potion on to be closer to him. "But when he was out of sight, he was out of mine. When he wasn't in the same room as me, I thought of you. And because you engaged me in a way he never could, I wanted you all the more. Luc was just a face and a body and a butt. You're a mind, a heart, a soul, a killer sense of humour and your arse isn't half-bad either."  
  
"Er, Nat," Roger began, backing away from me slightly.  
  
"I've wanted you ever since I came to Hogwarts," I continued, "but I never did anything about it. I was lonely and I thought I needed you as a friend more than anything else. But now I realise that I need you as my boyfriend more than I need you as a friend. Because you would be the first person who would ever be my boyfriend in the true sense of the word in that you're a boy who is also my friend first and foremost, but you're also a boy that I happen to want to kiss all the time. With us it wouldn't be just about sleeping together, but that would still be pretty damn good too. I know that because I have no idea what you would be like in bed, but I still really, really like you, Roger."  
  
Roger was silent for a minute, then he said, "Damn, that's strong stuff. Whatever you put in it, you should bottle it up and sell it to geriatrics and Malfoys in the back pages of The Daily Prophet. It could be the wizarding equivalent of Viagra - it could really take off."  
  
"It's not the potion," I said in frustration. "It's me." Now that I was finally talking, it seemed like a waste of time to say all this stuff and not have Roger believe it.  
  
"Whatever, Nat," Roger smirked. "You don't fancy me. We both know that. We're definitely the best friend types, the ones that make everyone believe that boys and girls believe that they can have platonic relationships, the ones Pothead looks to when he's trying to convince himself that he doesn't want that Hermione Grater girl. To you I'm the Mulder to your Scully."  
  
"Mulder and Scully have had the hots for each other for series," I responded.  
  
Roger didn't seem to know what to say to that one. Seeing his hesitation, I relentlessly pushed on. "I like you because your eyes have some specks of gold in them when they catch the light, because half the females in the school want you while having absolutely no clue who you really are, because you're so damn obsessed with Quidditch and it's so fucking annoying yet adorable-"  
  
"Uh, Nat, I'm Roger Davies," Roger pointed out. "For Oliver Wood you would have to try the Gryffindor common room."  
  
"-And because of your poor attempts at humour which are funny to no one but me," I continued triumphantly. "I like you because you're not afraid to make me angry at you and hurt my feelings in the short-term when you know it's for the best in the long run, because you sometimes know what I want before I do and because no matter how furious you are with me, you always give me a hug when I start to cry. You never use my tears against me like Luc did, and you're not afraid of them the way my father was. Whenever I started to cry my father would leave home for a week. My tears were too much trouble for him. But they're not too much trouble for you." Speaking of tears, my voice was beginning to waver a little. "And now I'm going to walk over and try to kiss you, and you wont know whether to pull away or kiss me back because you wont know whether it's the potion kissing you, or me."  
  
"The potion boiled," Roger said softly.  
  
And that was it. That was my answer. "Fine then," I said, feeling sad but in a calm way. It was no better than what I had expected. "You insist on believing that it's not me. You don't want me and want to get around telling me that or you're afraid to risk a relationship that may actually mean something. Either way you're a coward. So I'll drink your stupid sleeping drought, and we can both go to bed and pretend it was the potion talking and that this never happened and our friendship will continue to be the way it's always been. And when we graduate we'll marry different people - well, you may marry "one," I'll marry a succession of them - and we may occasionally look back and wonder what we've missed. But life will go on."  
  
So with a perfectly steady hand I drew my wand out of my dressing gown pocket and cast a cooling charm over the potion then proceeded to drink it. Then, my limbs beginning to feel heavy as the drowsiness set in, I made my way upstairs and collapsed onto my bed. 


	19. Next Time Hit Him Harder

Author's Note: So we've come to this: ONLY ONE CHAPTER TO GO! I'm getting all sentimental now *sob*. Heather, thank you as always for your review, and Music, yours just cracked me up. "It's like if Confessions of Georgina N. and The V.Secret Daries had Kinky sex and this was the offspring." Where did you get the idea for that one? LOL.  
  
I didn't know what position Warrington played in Entry 11, but now I know he's a Chaser so he's back as a Chaser in this chapter. Onward and upward!  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Chapter Nineteen: Next Time Will You Please Hit Him Harder, and Lower?  
  
8:55 AM, November 8th  
  
Roger knows his stuff. Did not wake up until Penelope, now our third Chaser, shook me awake the next morning, well, at a more reasonable time that same morning. "Get your fat arse out of bed, Natalia," she ordered crisply. "We have a game in an hour."  
  
"Then I better have a cup of coffee sometime within that hour," I retorted, swinging my legs out of the tangle of bedcovers. "And for the sake of your physical well-being I hope you spelt "fat" with a P-H, not a F."  
  
"Unlike you to be so optimistic this early in the morning," Penelope said, pulling her Quidditch sweater over her head. Since our talk in Moaning Myrtle's lair our relationship had changed from being arch-enemies to something more sisterly. Which meant that instead of covert dislike for decency's sake, we now practised outright hatred occasionally interrupted by brief moments of affection and consideration. One of these moments fortunately manifested itself in the coffee and plate of scrambled eggs that were shoved under my nose. "Now get a move on, you're the best Beater on the team and we can't afford you arriving fashionably late. Besides, a talent scout from the Holyhead Harpies will be at the game today."  
  
I spat out some coffee.  
  
"She's there mainly to watch the older girls, like our Vanessa and Bletchley from Slytherin," Penelope continued, "but the Harpies have an excellent youth program and it can't hurt to make a good impression early on. They've already offered Veronica Vector from Hufflepuff - who isn't a lesbian by the way - a contract and she's only sixteen. I know you have your career as a serial trophy wife well under way, but it can't hurt to keep your options open."  
  
"The only trophy I'm interested in is the one that's up for grabs today," I told her. "Let's just shelve the animosity until Malfoys strung up by his balls, shall we?"  
  
Penelope looked almost as shocked by my peace offering as I felt. "Deal," she said, leaning forward and shaking my hand. "All I've heard from him and Flint this week is how Ravenclaw has resorted to having Mudbloods on their team. You know, the wizarding world is the only one I've heard of that today still insists having a limited bloodline is a good thing."  
  
"There's still the Muggle royal family," I pointed out, "but forget them. Let's show their little inbred arses why us mongrels rule." With that I downed the last of my coffee and reached for my uniform.  
  
9:21 AM  
  
Well, plus side of taking Cedric to the ball is that able to piss off Penelope and Cho and every other girl in the school to no end. Will have a gorgeous date that won't grab my arse or grope front of my "white" dress having just eaten chocolate cake with his hands. This last part doubly unlike since being gay, will not make a move on me, and, being gay, will actually bother to eat cake with fork. And being gay, will be able to dance. And actually want to. What more could I ask for, really?  
  
A gorgeous date that can dance and actually wants to kiss me *sob*.  
  
9:34 AM  
  
Changing room atmosphere like nothing I had ever experienced before. Vanessa and Cho sitting together, squeezing eyes closed and clutching hands together in nerves and concentration. Malcolm leaning against wall and staring unseeingly out of window. Even Bombardino had forwent usual hyperactivity and instead of pacing around room, was sitting morosely in a worn leather armchair. In short, you would have found more cheer in the Malfoy Manor dining room.  
  
Most tellingly, Roger did not snap at Penelope and I for being late.  
  
It was up to me to insert some much-needed backbone into the situation. Crossing the room, I leaned down and took Cho by the shoulder. "You still up for that special move today?" I asked her. "Imagine the looks on their faces when we pull it off. They would never suspect anything like that from us."  
  
"You bet," Cho grinned. "I owe Malfoy one from what he did to me last game. I also got this first year Muggle-born who's a boy scout to tie my cloak in a special knot that will stay secure, but when I tug it, it will come undone easily."  
  
"Your special move is to have Cho "flash" Malfoy?" Roger asked. "Natalia," he hissed to me, "are you sure it will have the effect you want it to? I mean, Cho's not as "gifted," shall we say, as you are under there and - let's face it - they'll be expecting something like that after last weekend, and it's a stupid idea to begin with."  
  
"It may very well be," I said. "Which is why I'm not using it. Keep your shirt on."  
  
"I really hope Cho does," he said, crossing the room to go over some last minute strategies with the other two Chasers, Penelope and Malcolm. So this is what it's going to be like from now on, I realised as I pulled on my leather arm protectors and tightened the straps around my wrist, flexing my hands to make sure they weren't too tight. Exactly the same as it's been before. And really, why should it be any different?  
  
All too soon it was quarter to ten. Prepared or not, we had to face them. Penelope sidled up to me as I stood waiting to fly out into the stadium. "Penny for your thoughts?" she quipped.  
  
"Huh?" I blinked.  
  
"It's a kind of Muggle currency, sort of like a Knut," she explained. "I was just wondering what you were thinking about. And it's a pun because the coin is a penny and my name is Penelope. Get it?"  
  
Yeah, I get it alright, but that doesn't mean I think it's funny. "My thoughts wouldn't even be worth a Knut," I told her. In front of us Vanessa and Bombardino had taken off.  
  
"If they're about Roger, I'd say they are," Penelope whispered. I froze. "Look, just forget about him for now. We have a game to play. Do you want to look back on this ten years from now and think about how you not only blew the most important game of your life so far, but a chance to be a pro Quidditch player, all because you were hung up about some boy? Ten years from now you would have completely forgotten he ever existed."  
  
"You're right," I said. And she was - at least about some things. I shouldn't let this get in the way of me playing, this is what the rest of my life would be like from now on, pretending I didn't care about Roger in that way. But I would never forget him. That was what she was wrong about.  
  
Spent ten minutes tossing the Quaffle back and forth and zooming around stadium, then it was time for Roger and Flint to shake hands like all good- natured athletes. Normally the rest of us hang out in our positions like those stupid hanging ceiling adornments they hang above babies' beds, but this time by a wordless, mutual agreement, we all flew down to Roger and dismounted, flanking him. I squinted my eyes at Flint and repeated "You're going to die, Scumbag" over and over in my head, willing him to look at me. Bombardino hit his bat into his palm threateningly. Even Cho looked fierce. Flint gave Roger's hand the wussiest shake I have ever seen and hurriedly leapt on to his broom. The rest of the Slyths looked gobsmacked. Bring it on.  
  
"That," Roger said, turning around and facing us, "was awesome."  
  
"Positions, please," Hooch snapped, striding to the centre of the stadium (You could use a few - I thought). I climbed back on to my Nimbus 2001 and soared back up just below Cho and Draco. "Hey, China girl," he leered at her, "want to join the Mile High Club today?" Yes, wizards do have that club using broomsticks in lieu of an aeroplane, but what the hell, he's only thirteen!  
  
"You can grope my arse all you want, Malferret, if you can catch it, that is," Cho smirked back at him. Now I've really seen it all.  
  
Hooch blasted her whistle and the game swung into action. Penelope reached the Quaffle first, Roger sliding in after her to prevent Flint from body- checking her in the worst way possible. Adrian caught up with Penelope and slammed into her side, trying to nudge her off-course and force her to drop the Quaffle. Penelope was gripping the broom as tightly as she could with her free hand, but under the force of Adrian's collisions one hand wasn't enough. She tucked the Quaffle in between her arms, now holding with both hands. Adrian took the opportunity to try and bat the Quaffle out of her grasp. A Bludger darted within my reach and I slammed it at him. He dropped down to avoid it and Penelope sped off.  
  
"Is this because I won't go to the ball with you?" he called as he struggled to retain his balance.  
  
"In your dreams," I retorted through gritted teeth. We were now neck-and- neck, chasing after Penelope as she zoomed towards goal. For good measure I banged into Adrian's side.  
  
"My nightmares more like it, dearie," Adrian quipped, pulling ahead of my slightly. I angled my broom so that it knocked one of his hands free, making him lose balance enough for me to pull in front. "Enjoy this while it lasts, it's the closest you'll get to sex in a while."  
  
"I don't know, I'm taking Cedric to the ball next weekend," I replied. Bombardino had sent a Bludger towards us, hopefully intended for Adrian, but I had seen something up ahead and had better uses for it. Intercepting the small black ball before it hit Adrian, I swung it towards Marcus Flint, who once again was up to no good with Penelope. She ducked. He didn't. Losing his balance, Flint grabbed hold of Bletchy's broom, causing her to tip forward. Penelope took advantage of the situation to disrupt the virgin scoreline. I pumped my fist in the air. Adrian swore.  
  
We had barely drawn breath when they were on us, pelting towards our goal. Vanessa was a good Keeper, but had an unfortunate habit of drifting off towards one side of the six hoops instead of staying in the centre until she had a goal to defend. I managed to get in front of Montague and block his shot on goal, giving Vanessa enough time to fly across and scoop it up.  
  
"Vanessa, stop flying over to the side!" I called to her. "Either stay in the centre or circle the hoops, but don't fly and stay over to one side!"  
  
"Good call, Nat," Roger said as he flew past me.  
  
Malcolm had darted off with the Quaffle. Slytherin Beater Bole, a guy with a build that would make an ape look like Colin Farrell, was eyeing a Bludger assessingly as it bounced around in front of him. There was no way I could reach it before he did, but I managed to charge into him as he hit it, completely wreaking his aim. Instead of hurling towards Malcolm it knocked Bletchley off her broom and Malcolm hurled the Quaffle through a hoop. Twenty-Zero us.  
  
"Great tactics, Nat," Roger encouraged. "You're really on fire today!"  
  
Actually the whole team was on fire. Recognising our superior skill, the Slytherin team were playing dirtier than a cave troll's arse, trying to intimidate us out of our game, but we were playing with a grit you wouldn't have suspected we had after watching us bawl over ninety percent papers. Roger was using his role as a defensive Chaser superbly, flying alongside Malcolm and Penelope and disrupting the play of the Slytherin Chasers to give them more space. Hardly anyone could touch our Chasers because of the hailstorm of Bludgers Bombardino and I were sending towards the Snakes. Vanessa had stopped veering off to the side and was defending the hoops with the agility of a spidermonkey. We were leading by four goals. Then-  
  
"NATALIA! NATALIA!" Cho screamed. "IT'S TIME!"  
  
Cho and Draco were powering towards the Snitch. Warrington and Montague had pulled up in front of the pair. They were going to try and block Cho. Draco was going to get the Snitch. There wasn't a Bludger in sight. I gritted my teeth and sprinted my broomstick towards them, the air slapping my face with the force of my flight.  
  
"AHHH!" they cried, and sprang apart in front of me. I managed to pull out of the way of the two Seekers, my mind whirring with what I should do to help Cho. The move we had practised required a Bludger. There were still none around me. Bombardino had reached one but seemed unsure of what to do. The angle he had to swerve it was very tight, and he was too far away to be sure of hitting Draco and not Cho.  
  
"BOMBARDINO!" I roared. "HIT IT AT ME! QUICK!"  
  
Bombardino hesitated, then powered the ball towards me. As it smacked into my own bat I released my broom and caught it against the bat with my left hand, preventing it from ricocheting away with the force of it's collision. My hand now throbbing painfully, I forced it back around my broom handle and charged off after Draco and Cho, wondering how on earth I could catch them in time. I was giving the Bludger weak hits as I flew, trying to keep it with me but not wanting to hit it too hard in case it flew away.  
  
A Slytherin Beater was baring down on the second Bludger, his eye hooked menacingly on Cho. "Natalia! Take him out!" Roger ordered.  
  
"I can't!" I cried. "I need this Bludger!"  
  
The Beater had reached the Bludger and swung it towards Cho. Her eyes were trained on the Snitch. She wouldn't see it coming. But quicker still was Roger. He sped off towards the Bludger and caught it flat in the stomach. The Ravenclaw stand shrieked as he wavered, then started to fall off his broom.  
  
"ROGER!" I screamed.  
  
"I'll get him!" Vanessa cried. Since the start of Cho and Draco's chase everyone had abandoned their normal game plans and were doing their best to help our Seeker. "Stop Draco, or else it will all be a waste. STOP DRACO!"  
  
I ducked down below to collect the Bludger from where it had fallen after I had stopped hitting it in my shock. Vanesssa was bearing down on Roger. Cho and Draco had swerved around and were heading to my left. Vanessa had caught Roger and was beginning to sink under his weight. To my right Flint's face whitened in dismay, realising what was about to go down. Pushing everything else to the back of my mind, I sped off to cut the Seekers off, then stopped about thirty yards in front of them, cocking my arm to hurl the Bludger. "NOW, CHO!" I howled.  
  
Cho's free hand came up around her neck and she tugged open her cloak. The garment flew backwards into Draco's face and I swung the Bludger at him. Flint slammed into me and my broomstick spun out of control. Cho flipped her broomstick so that the ball hurtled over the top her of and smacked into Draco. The Slytherin Seeker gave a howl of pain and the Ravenclaw Seeker strained forward, her hand snaking around the Snitch. Madame Hooch blew her whistle. It was all over.  
  
Penelope screamed and threw her arms around me, which was a good thing because I wasn't sure how much longer I could stay on my broom unaided. My head was spinning from the force of Flint's collision and the hand I had trapped the Bludger with was beginning to go numb. Then we were both thrown backwards as Bombardino flew into us, dropping multitudes of sloppy kisses on our cheeks and shouting, "I love women! I love women!" Somehow we ended up down on the ground, surrounded by a pack of Ravenclaw supporters. I had never been hit on my back so many times in my life. The herd of happy housemates closed in around us and I found myself face to face with Roger.  
  
"Great move back there, Nat," he said, one hand pressed against his ribcage awkwardly. "And you were right. I am a coward."  
  
Coward? I blinked. What was cowardly about charging down a Bludger? But before I could ask him fresh supporters cut in between us, pressing their congratulations upon me. I smiled and tried not to cry out when they shook my swollen hand, all the while glancing over the top of everyone's heads for Roger. Across the other end of the pitch I spotted a miserable huddle of Slytherin players, goaded on by Gryffindors. Huh, I thought part of being heroic was having good sportsmanship. Apparently not. Damn, where was that boy?  
  
"Natalia?" A small hand tugged on my sleeve, and I looked down to see a pair of glasses nestled below a lightning-shaped scar. "I'm Harry Potter. I just wanted to congratulate you on your win today. You also might like to know that there's a representative from the Holyhead Harpies in the teacher's box looking for you."  
  
"Me?" My throat went dry. "But this isn't even my position. I normally play as Seeker."  
  
"Well, apparently she thought you were okay," Harry said. He glanced down at the ground awkwardly, then his head jerked back up and he was smiling. "Can you just do me one small favour, Seeker to Seeker?"  
  
"Depends what the favour is," I told him. "I don't really do paedophilia, you know."  
  
"Paedo-what?" Harry squinted.  
  
"Nevermind," I told him. "Now what is it that you want, pip-squeak?"  
  
"Well," Harry began, beaming, "I mean, not that what you did with Draco wasn't totally cool and all, but the next time you pull off something like that, will you please hit him harder, and lower, if you know what I mean? The Malfoy family lines been going on a bit too long."  
  
"I'll see what I do," I replied, more than a little shocked. His Royal Potterness, encouraging the dismemberment of fellow students (and when I say "dismemberment," I mean disMEMBERment)? "And you might want to make a run for it. I see a bunch of impossibly-developed girls wearing Gryffindor scarves heading your way."  
  
"Thanks," Harry gulped and ran off.  
  
"Oi, Adani," Malcolm called. "Party in the changing room in five minutes!"  
  
"I'll catch you there later," I shouted back. "I have to meet someone." Pushing my way through the crowd of students, I made my way towards the teacher's tower.  
  
Life is really bloody good.  
  
12:52 PM  
  
Met up with Harpies rep, who was tall, lanky woman with nose broken several times from Bludgers. Really, someone should tell these poor pureblood witches about the joys of plastic surgery. Perhaps Mommy could help her out? Actually, maybe not the best idea since am trying to stay on this woman's good side. Basically told me that she's banking on me improving a lot over next two years, but since it is first time playing in this position and if I improve at the same rate, I should have place in reserve team with my name on it. Woo hoo! Only downside is that will not play as Seeker since professional league requires smallest, fastest players possible for that position, but don't really care since am not a glory hunter or attention seeker at all - why are you laughing?  
  
1:02 PM  
  
Made way up to Ravenclaw changing room, hand now feeling as though it's been sat on by Hagrid with Pansy Parkinson on his lap. Penelope will be able to cast freezing spell on it once I'm up there. Speaking of, why is it so quiet? Shouldn't a house that just won the championship from under the nose of the meanest team in the school be throwing televisions out of the window by now?  
  
Pushed open door and got one hell of a fright. No, it wasn't Penelope and Weasley fucking, but something almost as bad. No, not Vanessa and Bombardino fucking either - look, will you just be patient? Crowded together in the centre of the room was our Quidditch team with a collection of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, some quite young and frightened looking - although I don't know how those Gryffs could be afraid of anything after Hermione Grater's hair - who was also there along with the other two in the threesome. With their wands pointed in a semi-circle around them was the entire Slytherin team. Montague, the attractive blond Chaser, swung around as I entered, his wand now pointing squarely between my two-most prised possessions.  
  
"Hello, Natalia," he drawled coolly as I stood in the doorway. "So glad you could come and join us. The Slytherins have decided that in order to congratulate you on your victory and build up goodwill between the rest of the houses, we should play a little game together."  
  
"We do apologise for gate-crashing," Warrington smirked. I gaped at him. Slytherins are like cheerleaders or fraternity boys. They're fine as individuals, but once you get them together something happens to them that isn't entirely pretty.  
  
"Have you heard of the Muggle games "I Have Never" and "Truth or Dare"?" Montague continued, smiling icily. "Rather quaint and drole, but far more interesting when you play them with, say, the Veritasium we brewed up earlier. Do come in. We're just about to begin."  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
A/N: Next, the (final) Truth and Dare chapter in which heaps of mishaps happen to all my favourite Hogwarts students and Natalia's romantic situation is finally resolved. Woo hoo! 


	20. This is what we call Truth or Dare

Author's Note: Wow. The final chapter. I can't believe I've made it this far. I feel happy yet sad, kind of like how parents probably feel when they watch their eldest child leave home to go off to college. And in a way Natalia is my girl. I hope this last chapter lives up to everyone's expectations.  
  
Some news is that Liz Dockson from fictionalley.net has kindly offered to host some of my fanart in exchange for my beta skills (I'll do my best ;p). I'm not sure when I'll have some pictures up for everyone to look at, but I'm planning on drawing for all three of my chapter fics and I'll put the link on my bio page when it's up.  
  
Since this is the final chapter, I would like to dedicate this to everyone who has ever read and reviewed and especially mention Heather, who helped me get out of a tight spot writer's block wise.  
  
Here we go...  
  
# # # # # # # # #  
  
Entry Twenty: This is what we call "Truth or Dare"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Hey baby what's your name  
  
Don't stand looking insane  
  
Do you want to ride the train  
  
Welcome to the fast lane  
  
If you're in love beware  
  
'Cause these people they don't care  
  
All hands in the air  
  
This is what we call "Truth or Dare"  
  
- NERD, "Truth or Dare"  
  
* * * * *  
  
1:04 PM, November 8th  
  
Alright then, let's recap:  
  
Far too early this morning for anyone in their right mind: Took Roger I liked him. And got wimped out on. Badly.  
  
Very very bad.  
  
Not quite so early this morning, but at a still indecent time for people with lives, or hangovers, or both (they sometimes go together): Experienced rare moment of bonding and solidarity with Pen - er, Penelop - er, Clearhead.  
  
Very very disturbing.  
  
About half an hour ago: WE WON THE QUIDDITCH CUP! WE WON THE QUIDDITCH CUP! AND A REPRESENTATIVE FROM THE HOLYHEAD HARPIES LIKES MY STYLE (not in that way, you sick bastard) AND WANTS ME TO TRY OUT FOR THE TEAM! BLOODY MERLIN!  
  
Uh, all that was very well and good.  
  
Fast forward to the present: Slytherin on the losing side of a Snitch standing in front of me with wand pointed in between the features that made Dolly Parton famous and that I eventually hope will do the same for me.  
  
Oh shit...  
  
1:07 PM  
  
"Natalia," Montague grinned (slimy git). "Take a seat." Realised that only people sitting are Slytherin team, with Draco lounging in throne-like chair in front of Ravenclaw tapestry like some kind of reptile. But I will not be undone. Stalked across to him and plopped down on his lap, virtually burying the little creep beneath me (hey, what the hell is wrong with being voluptuous and statuesque?). As for the word "burying," well, don't give me ideas. Tempting as it is, room's full of witnesses - not to mention chronic tattle-tales like Percy Weasley, Clearhead and Hermione Grater - and I don't really think the Harpies take on people with Azkaban sentences under their belts.  
  
Speaking of "under the belt," is Draco happy to see me?  
  
Is going to be very long afternoon. Whoops, "long," which he certainly isn't - I mean the afternoon will be "lengthy," oh, I give up.  
  
1:09 PM  
  
Everyone now sitting in semi-circle on floor. Fortunately, the rest of the Slytherin team - who are still holding us hostages with wands - requested that Draco and I join them. Very lucky as if he had been any "happier to see me," I would have had one in the oven. Distract self from unsettling thought of yet another addition to the Malfoy family line (Pothead was right) by glancing around circle at rest of victims. Players - I mean prisoners - are:  
  
GRYFFINDORS - no, scrap that, I am not putting them first because they always come first in every *&*&$#^%*^^#$%@^^&^%*! other thing - HUFFLEPUFFS - who never come first, no, not them, because nice guys always finish last, okay, THE RAVENCLAWS:  
  
Alessandro Bombardino, Malcolm Brocklehurst, Cho Chang, Penelope Clearwater, Vanesssa Johnson, The Wimp (okay, Roger Davies) and Yours Truly.  
  
THE SLYTHERINS:  
  
Karen Bletchley, Millicent Bulstrode, Marcus Flint, Draco Malfoy, Alexander Montague, Pansy Parkinson, Adrian Pucey and Carl Warrington  
  
THE GRYFFINDORKS:  
  
Katie Bell (moo), Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey, Hermione Granger, Lee Jordan, Neville Longbottom, Parvati Patil, Harry Potter, Here a Weasley, there a Weasley, everywhere a Weasley and His Woodiness.  
  
THE HUFFLEPUFFS (because nice guys finish last, mwuah!):  
  
Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, and Cedric Diggory.  
  
Let's get ready to rumba...  
  
1:10 PM  
  
"Alright, punks," Flint drawled, looking around at a circle of some very scared faces (pathetic Hufflepuffs), "this is what's happening. Firstly, thank you for kindly accepting our invitation to join us Slytherins in some interhouse games."  
  
Draco smirked. Hermione Grater took the opportunity to cuddle up to Harry Pothead. "You're a Gryffindor," I hissed to Lavender Brown next to me. "You're meant to be bold and heroic. Can't you do something to get us out of this mess?"  
  
"We've got Harry Potter," she said, a blank smile on her face. Honestly.  
  
"Secondly, we will start with I Have Never and then continue on to Truth or Dare," Adrian continued. "In order to salve our consciences-" huh? "-we have enlisted the help of a Ravenclaw to make an aging potion, which we will give to everyone below the age sixteen. So we will not be held accountable for your actions, and it will make the Truth or Dare game all the more interesting. Thirdly, as you may know I Have Never is a drinking game." The Hufflepuffs looked blank. Fred and George Weasley sniggered knowingly. "Therefore, we too will be drinking and in order to ensure everyone else other than the Hufflepuffs tell the truth for the Truth and Dare game, these drinks have been spiked with Veritasium, also brewed up by our trusty Ravenclaw friend." Could have appreciated this move of pure genius and evil if was not on the receiving end of it. "Roger, would you do the honours?"  
  
"Roger!" I hissed. "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"Look, don't get mad, Nat, but I overheard them planning to do this yesterday and I offered to brew both potions," Roger whispered hurriedly. "I figured this way at least I know no one would get poisoned and with everyone being over sixteen, we break as few school rules as possible." He got up and walked over to a steaming pot in the corner of the room. Okay, when has he ever been interested in not breaking rules? So "now" during a time of crisis he decides to go all Ravenclaw on me? Great, just great.  
  
"Fourth and finally, we Slytherins are only observers in this," Montague smirked.  
  
"No, you're not," Roger said. "That wasn't the agreement we had."  
  
"Aw, poor wittle Roger," Flint pouted in mock sympathy. "Since when have we Slytherins been known to keep our promises?"  
  
"Since when I got the entire Slytherin team to sign the terms we made up on a charmed piece of paper," Roger said coolly. "If you refuse to play, you will get the word "Coward" written across your forehead in big red letters. And since it involves going back on a promise, the curse is irreversible."  
  
"You're lying," Flint said baldy, but a muscle in his cheek had started to twitch.  
  
"Try me," Roger challenged. Woo hoo, go Roger - wait, am still angry with him.  
  
"Alright then," Flint shrugged. "Pucey, say you won't play."  
  
"Bloody hell, Marcus," Adrian swore. "What if he is telling the truth? At least ask someone who never had any good looks to begin with, so the damage will be limited."  
  
"Fine," Flint said. "Parkinson, you say you won't play."  
  
"Are you saying I'm not attractive?" the second year, who was almost as big as Flint, demanded.  
  
"N-n-no, of course not," Flint stammered.  
  
"Oh, this is getting ridiculous," Hermione Grater snapped. "All of you, there's a very basic and obvious solution to this problem. Simply get Roger to drink some of his own Veritasium, then ask if he put a curse on the parchment you signed."  
  
Flint, Adrian and Montague all glanced at each other. "Right," Montague said. "I was just about to suggest that." One of the Weasel twins snorted. "Well, Davies, you heard the mudblood-"  
  
"Don't call her mudblood!" Ron Weasel snapped.  
  
Roger took a swallow. Flint asked him if he had cursed their signatures. He replied that he had. "So you're playing then?" he asked cheerfully.  
  
The Slytherins scowled and took a spot in the circle. Colin Creevey, who was sitting next to Cedric, received a lancing glare from Adrian and quickly scrambled out of the way so the happy couple could sit next to each other. "Now then," Roger continued, "since I am sixteen myself, it would be dangerous for me to test the aging potion-"  
  
"There's an idea," Draco injected, resentful of the way Roger had taken control of the situation.  
  
"-so I would like a volunteer."  
  
"A Gryffindor," several Slytherins said promptly.  
  
"For once we're in agreement," Roger beamed.  
  
"Potty, here's a chance for you to be a hero once more," Draco smirked. "You do it."  
  
"Why me?" Harry pouted.  
  
"Why not?" Draco retorted. "Now get your arse up there and drink some potion." Harry glared at him but complied. Since Draco had a wand but he didn't, he didn't really have any say in the matter. Hermione Grater sneaked a quick look at the arse in question as he walked over to Roger. Those Gryffindors think they're so pure and high-minded. Well, in Dumbledore's case, perhaps "high" is appropriate word choice.  
  
Everyone around me gasped. I returned to the present to see a sixteen year old Harry Pothead who stood almost as tall as Roger. Hermione was blushing. "If I only I got a mark for this," Roger lamented. "Now walk around and hand out glasses to everyone and I'll follow behind with the potion."  
  
Seconds later the younger students were admiring their new and lusty selves. Each Weasley boy had grown several inches in height and the once tiny Lee Jordan was now about six feet tall. "Cool," he said. Hannah Abbot's acne had completely disappeared. Lavender Brown had developed. Parvati Patil had not. "This is all I have to look forward to?" she had shrieked in dismay after looking down her shirt, then burst into tears. "It's not fair, it's so not fair." Colin Creevey looked about the same. And as for Neville, well, helloooooo Neville...  
  
Let's just say that his puppy fat was only that.  
  
"Oh my god, Neville?" Hermione breathed, looking at him with great interest. "Neville, if I'd known I would have helped you out more in Potions, honest!" Neville flicked his hair out of his face and shrugged his now-manly shoulders. Lavender giggled.  
  
It wasn't just the girls who were eyeing Neville. Cedric hadn't taken his eyes off him since the transformation. Adrian was looking distinctly sulky, probably jealous because Neville was now better-looking than him. Flint looked put out too. Hello, he was always better-looking than you!  
  
"Right then," Flint began as Harry and Roger now put drinks spiked with Veritasium in everyone's glass ("I hope that's diet coke," Lavender said when Roger got to her), "this is how I Have Never works. "We go around the circle and each make a, eh, talking thingy-"  
  
"A statement," several Ravenclaws supplied.  
  
"Yeah, what they just said," Flint shrugged. Behind Harry and Roger Colin Creevey was pouring Susan Bones coke without the Veritasium. It had apparently been decided among the Slytherins that Hufflepuffs, being the most honest (read, stupid) house in the school, did not need it. I think Adrian just didn't want Cedric to share too many of his secrets. "We each make a what-the-Ravenclaws-call-it like "I have never brushed my hair" or "I have never showered"-" Draco winced and scooted away from him "-and if you have done those things, you have to drink. Do the Hufflepuffs understand?"  
  
"Do you?" Susan whispered nastily. Next to her Ron Weasley sniggered.  
  
"Fucking great," Flint grinned. "Natalia, you seem like an, erm-"  
  
"Interesting," Adrian supplied.  
  
"Creative," Montague piped up.  
  
"Slutty," Bombardino cut in. I will kill him.  
  
"-person. Why don't you start?" Flint finished. Felt like refusing but a request from a Slytherin is never a request. It's an order. "Now the "I Have Never," er-"  
  
"Statement!" Hermione shrieked at him.  
  
"-has to be something you haven't done yourself. You might have difficulty there," he smirked. Bastard. "We go around the circle in the direction that - uh - isn't clockwise."  
  
"Counter-clockwise," Cho groaned.  
  
To my right there was a thud. In the middle of passing out glasses Harry had reached Draco and in a moment of foolish Gryffindor heroics had tried to wrestle his wand off him. Draco had retaliated by Stupifying him. "Now, now, Draco," Montague said idly. "Bring him to his senses again. We need him for the games." Draco looked mutinous but performed the counter-curse. Harry sat up and rubbed his head.  
  
"Well, Natalia?" Adrian snapped. He was glaring in the direction of Neville Longbottom.  
  
"I've got one," Vanessa Johnson, two places down, rescued me. "I have never fancied Oliver Wood."  
  
I didn't drink. Perving at someone doesn't count as fancing. Katie Bell, Hermione Granger, Alicia Spinnet and Ginny Weasley did drink. So did Adrian, Cedric and - gulp - Colin Creevey. Lavender and Parvati drank, then glared at each other and looked away.  
  
Millicent Bulstrode took a swallow. "Oh, shut up," she told a sniggering Pansy Parkinson next to her.  
  
Next was Malcolm Brocklehurst. "I have never received anything below an "E" on my OWLS," he said, glancing cautiously around the circle as if he had just said something taboo.  
  
Oliver, Montague and Flint all drank, not looking particularly bothered by what they had just revealed. Percy also drank, blushing fit to burst. Penelope gave a disappointed sigh and turned away from him.  
  
Except for Cho and Malcolm, who were gaping at Percy in shock, everyone's eyes were now on me. "Fine, then," I muttered. "I have never kissed a Weasley."  
  
The result was calamitous. Almost every single person who wasn't (a) a Weasley, (b) Roger or (c) me drank. Penelope and Angelina Johnson looked pretty apathetic as they did. The rest gaped at each other in horror. Harry was blushing fit to burst. "FLINT! YOU KISSED OUR SISTER!" George roared.  
  
"No, I didn't!" Flint protested quickly. "I kissed Percy!" Angelina spat out a mouthful. Flint realised what he had just said and ran out of the room.  
  
"Well, I know you didn't kiss my sister," Fred said apologetically to Cedric, who too had drank and was sitting next to him. "So who was it then? Percy? You poor bastard. I bet it was quite dark though. You couldn't help it."  
  
"Actually, it was Charlie," Cedric ducked his head.  
  
"Charlie is gay?" Fred whispered.  
  
"EWW! GINNY AND RON JUST DRANK!" Pansy shrieked. The mouths of everyone in the room collectively dropped.  
  
"IT WAS WHEN WE WERE FIVE!" Ginny yelled. "OH, COME ON! I BET EVERYONE KISSED THEIR SIBLINGS WHEN THEY WERE YOUNGER!"  
  
"Er, no," Vanessa said, glancing at Angelina.  
  
"Charlie is gay?" Fred repeated.  
  
"Ginny, move so that you're not sitting next to Ron," Warrington ordered, pointing his wand at her. "No, not next to one of your other brothers, in between Neville and Oliver. We can all do without unsavoury images for the rest of the game." This remark caused the Gryffindor Chaser to shoot jealous looks at her. Ginny was another one who had matured with age. "Lavatory, it's your turn." Lavender was gazing vaguely at Neville. "Nevermind. Creevey, you got any ideas?"  
  
"I've got new socks on," Colin piped up excitedly.  
  
"Charlie is gay?" Fred gaped.  
  
"Ah, forget it," Warrington snarled. "I guess it's my turn then. Ginny and Ron, for the sake of keeping everyone's lunch in their stomachs you are excempt from this one. I have never shagged a Weasley."  
  
"What if we want them to answer it?" Bombardino asked. Vanessa's face got an oh my god, what have I been shagging the last two weeks expression on it and she scooted away from him. That boy is one sick puppy. To everyone's great relief, only Penelope drank.  
  
"Parvati?" Draco raised his eyebrow at her. She opened her mouth to speak. "Don't bother. I doubt you have anything of interest to contribute."  
  
"Actually, I was about say I have never gone for a guy my best friend fancied first," she said, shooting daggers at Lavender.  
  
"I can't be bothered with this," Montague sighed. "Stupify!" Both Lavender and Parvati fell to the floor.  
  
"I was actually quite interested in that," Oliver protested.  
  
"That's because you're a pretty boy narcissist," Roger snapped.  
  
"Jealous, are you?" Oliver asked smoothly.  
  
"No, because I HAVE THE QUIDDITCH CUP!" Roger retorted. Oliver's lower lip began to tremble.  
  
"My turn then," Karen Bletchley barked. "I have never had impure thoughts about a mudblood." She shot Marcus Flint, who had returned when Montague knocked Lavender and Parvati out, a significant look.  
  
All the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs drank, but no one was paying attention to our revelations. Marcus, grinning shame-facedly at Bletchley, drank. Montague and Warrington looked at each other, then shrugged and downed their glasses. Adrian was too busy glaring at Neville to even pay attention to the question. Then-  
  
"DRACO! YOU SLUT!" Pansy screamed.  
  
"But Pansy," Draco protested, sneaking a guilty look at Hermione. "I was on medication!"  
  
"Oh, I feel so violated," Hermione sighed.  
  
Pansy reared forward and punched Draco squarely on the jaw. Before she had drunk the Veritasium, she had been almost as large as Marcus Flint, but now she was massive. Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, who had been sitting in between Pansy and Draco, were squashed beneath her. Pansy then went into a rage and was sedated only by a well-placed Impedimentus curse from Warrington.  
  
"Right, I think everyone's had enough Veritasium to ensure that they're honest in the next game," Montague said, wiping his brow. The Slytherins looked traumatised from the last I Have Never. "Let's go on to Truth or Dare, shall we?"  
  
"I want breasts," Flint said suddenly.  
  
"What?" Everyone who was neither stupified, frozen or otherwise indisposed turned and stared at him.  
  
"Just while we're playing," he added hurriedly. "I mean, I couldn't have them all the time. I'd never get any work done, would I?" Penelope gave him a disgusted look. "Pleeeeaase?"  
  
"Fine," I said. "If someone tosses me a wand I know the spell to do it. My mother's a cosmetogolist." Angelina elbowed Adrian and he threw me his wand, then continued glaring at Neville. I performed the necessary incantation and Flint soon had a pair of lovely C cups. "Nice," he said, running his hands over his chest.  
  
"Flint," Warrington shuddered, "you can ask the first one if you just please don't."  
  
"You're jealous," Flint pouted, but stopped. "Pothead, truth or dare?"  
  
"Pothead?" Harry said, pretending to look around the circle of people. "I don't see anyone who goes by that name here." Draco pointed his wand at him. "Fine, I'll take truth."  
  
Smart boy.  
  
"Are you trying to steal Hermione from underneath Ron's rather large nose?" Flint grinned.  
  
"Yes," Harry said, then clapped a hand over his mouth. Ron made to leap for Harry but was cut short by a freezing curse from Warrington. "As much as I wanted to let him go for it, you'd make a really good subject for other people's dares," he told Harry. "Now it's your turn, Pothead." Colin Creevey waved his hand in the air. "Come on, pick someone."  
  
"Um, I'll pass," Harry said.  
  
Stupid boy.  
  
"I've got one," Draco said immediately. "Chang, truth or dare?"  
  
"Dare," Cho gulped.  
  
Draco grinned horrifically. "I dare you to give Pothead a lap dance while singing "Get Me Off" by Basement Jaxx."  
  
After many protests and a stab from Draco's wand, Cho was finally sent across the room. Warrington summoned a chair for Harry to sit on so that he and Cho would be better, eh, matched. Tentatively swaying her hips in Harry's direction, Cho began to sing:  
  
Give your body to me  
  
Give your body to me  
  
Let your body be free  
  
Free your body, your body with me  
  
Give your body to me  
  
Give your body to me  
  
Let your body be free  
  
Free your body, your body with me  
  
I wanna undress you  
  
Wanna caress you  
  
Don't wanna be coy  
  
It's time to get me off  
  
I wanna undress you  
  
Wanna caress you  
  
Don't wanna be coy  
  
It's time to get me off  
  
Cho's singing was like melodic nails on a chalkboard. Those of us that still had wands had cast temporary deafening charms on our ears. Those of us who hadn't had our hands over them. Cho hadn't even reached the chorus when Warrington mercifully cut her short.  
  
"Draco, truth or dare?" she snapped, her eyes shining with tears of anger and humiliation.  
  
"You can't ask the person who asked you," he said quickly, glancing around his team-mates for help. "Isn't that right, Warrington. Isn't that right?"  
  
Warrington looked as though he would like to have disagreed with Draco, but thought better of it. "Yep. Those are the rules. Sorry Cho, you're going to have to choose someone else."  
  
"I don't know what to ask," she said miserably. Lee Jordan, who was sitting next to her, whispered something in her ear. She turned bright red. "Colin Creevey, truth or dare?"  
  
"I've got new socks on," Colin said cheerfully.  
  
"I'm sure they're very nice socks, Colin, but I need you to answer my question now," Cho said sweetly. Draco made a retching noise. Mentally, I agreed. "Truth or dare?"  
  
"Ooh," Colin wriggled excitedly. "A dare, please."  
  
Cho smiled warmly. "I dare you to kiss Harry Potter."  
  
Penelope gasped. Ron looked like he was about to puke. Lee Jordan lent across Cho to give George a high-five. "Why am I always involved in other people's dares?" Harry sighed.  
  
"Because you weren't embarrassed anywhere enough by what Cho had to do," Lee Jordan retorted in a now-deep baritone. "So pucker up, little boy." Colin smooched Harry on the cheek, who hurriedly wiped his face off afterwards.  
  
"My turn now," Colin said happily, gazing adoringly at Harry. "Harry Potter- "  
  
"Didn't see that coming," Harry muttered.  
  
"Truth or dare?"  
  
"Truth," Harry snapped.  
  
"Do you like Hermione?"  
  
I groaned. Several people rolled their eyes. "Yes, Colin," Harry sighed painstakingly. "As Flint's earlier truth and dare question already established, I do indeed like Hermione. Now go back to your side of the room, please." Not aware of the annoying effect he had on his idol, Colin skipped happily back to his position in between Lavender Brown and Marcus Flint. "Angelina, truth or dare?"  
  
"Truth," Angelina said easily. I snorted. No way would Pothead ask her anything traumatic.  
  
"Just out of curiosity, exactly what do you see in Fred Weasley?" Harry asked.  
  
"Nothing," Angelina said. "I mean, I'm dating George."  
  
Gryffindor just got a hell of a lot more interesting.  
  
There was a tense silence. "See," George turned triumphantly to his twin. "I told you she liked me better."  
  
"But she said yes when "I" asked her out!" Fred protested.  
  
"Yeah, but that's only because she thought you were me," George pointed out.  
  
"Did not."  
  
"Did too."  
  
"Did not."  
  
"Did too."  
  
"Pucey," Angelina quickly raised her voice over the bickering twosome, an embarrassed flush creeping up her neck, "truth or dare?"  
  
"Dare," Adrian spat, looking at Neville maliciously.  
  
"You asked for it," Angelina shrugged. "Since you've never dealt with anything with breasts before, I dare you to walk across the room and pash Marcus Flint for at least five seconds."  
  
"HELL, NO!" Adrian screamed. Everyone was staring at him. Roger and Warrington were rolling around the floor in hysterics. Even the twins had stopped arguing the see the outcome of this. "THERE'S NO WAY I AM GOING NEAR THAT...THAT...AWFUL, BUCK-TOOTHED THING!" The now-feminine Flint pursed his lips together and made puckering noises. "CEDRIC, YOU'D BE INSANE WITH JEALOUSY IF I EVER KISSED ANOTHER - WELL, WHATEVER THE HELL MARCUS IS NOW - WOULDN'T YOU?" He turned to his beloved for help.  
  
Jealous of Flint? Anyone? Hell, that's stretching it. "Actually, since it is a dare after all, I wouldn't mind," Cedric said sweetly. "I mean, I'm right here. It's not like I don't know about it."  
  
"A lot of help you are!" Adrian snapped. "I don't care! I'm just not doing it!"  
  
"You have to play, Adrian," Roger reminded him while fighting a grin. "Your name's on the contract." His lower lip trembling pitiously, Adrian made his way reluctantly across the circle, then took Flint in his arms and kissed him passionately. One second passed. Then two. Three. Four. Then, "Er, Adrian, time's up, mate," Warrington said. Neither boy made a move to pull apart. "Adrian, five seconds has been and gone." Still no response. "ADRIAN!"  
  
Adrian withdrew from Marcus's embrace, a dazed expression on his face. "I, er, now know what I've been missing out on all these years," he said softly. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement to make that may shock you. I, Adrian Cornellius Pucey, as of five seconds ago, am bisexual."  
  
Katie, Vanessa, Hermione and Ginny, who had both come back into the room during some point of the insanity, all cheered. So did Penelope, then quickly looked away from Percy. So of everyone in the school, the one that "finally" makes the hottest guy come around is, eh, Marcus Flint? I think I need some Panadol.  
  
"Adrian, you have to pick another victim," Montague reminded him.  
  
"Ah, yes," Adrian said vaguely. "Vanessa, truth or dare?" She picked truth. "What to say, what to say...um...just to reassure myself that I am still the most sexed-up beast in Hogwarts, and what just happened has been amazingly fortuous since it doubles my scoring opportunities-"  
  
"Adrian, get on with it," Montague warned.  
  
"How many times have you and Bombardino shagged?"  
  
"Umm," Vanessa screwed up her face in concentration. "Weeeell, there was the time in the," she began to count off her fingers, "and then there was the time when he - can I get back to you on that on? I think I'm going to be a while."  
  
"Moving right along," Montague rolled his eyes. "Twins, pick a victim. Other than me, that is."  
  
"Cedric, truth or dare," Fred said, sneaking a sly look at Adrian.  
  
"Oh, truth please," Cedric replied. Vanessa was still counting.  
  
"Do you find the sixteen year old version of Neville Longbottom sexually attractive?"  
  
Neville turned bright red and attempted to hide behind Ginny. Is truly adorable when guys don't know how hot they are. Come to think of it I rather fancy him myself - no, must repeat after self: HE'S REALLY ONLY TWELVE, NATALIA, HE'S REALLY ONLY TWELVE...  
  
"Um, er," Cedric warbled, Adrian watching him expectantly.  
  
Vanessa was now not only continuing to count off her fingers (she had gone through several pairs of hands) but whispering to herself. Every now and again she'd remember a particularly torrid detail and smile to herself, then turn bright red.  
  
Thank Merlin I can't lipread is all I can say.  
  
Now being a Hufflepuff, Cedric had not been forced to drink the Veritasium and therefore had the luxury of lying if he so choose. But what did the noble Hufflepuff do *sighs and rolls eyes heavenward*? "Um, er," he continued for about ten minutes, then finally, "yeeeeessss."  
  
"THAT'S IT!" Adrian roared, leaping to his feet. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH! YOU CAN FORCE ME TO DRINK VERITASIUM! YOU CAN MAKE ME KISS SOMEONE WITH BREASTS AND COMPLETELY THROW MY SEXUAL ORIENTATION INTO TURMOIL! BUT A GRYFFINDOR HITTING ON MY BOYFRIEND? THIS IS TOO MUCH! I QUIT!"  
  
Instantly the word "Coward" appeared on his forehead. At Hermione's gasp Adrian cautiously felt his face, then screamed and ran out of the room. Oh yeah, Adrian, like springing acne that would be visible a mile off on Hagrid would make you suddenly looking more appealing than Neville "Hot"bottom. Nice one.  
  
Hang on. First he's hot and gay, then for a matter of seconds he's hot and bisexual, then...he's..not hot. There was a brief window of opportunity and I missed it. It's just all too much *sob*.  
  
There was a shocked silence as everyone stared at each other in horror. "Um, Roger?" Draco asked shakily. "What happens if we all quit?"  
  
"It's only the spoken phrase that activates it," Roger said. "And if everyone mutually decides to finish the game, then the contract no longer applies. Are you interested in quitting?" Draco, Warrington, Montague and Flint all nodded mutely. "Alright then. All in favour of finishing the game raise your hand." Every single hand in the room rose up. "Good. The game is finished."  
  
People began to sigh with relief and slowly get up, except for the Slytherins, who bolted out the door in a very undignified way. What a bunch of cowards. Then with our new revelations about each other, the party swung into action. Big time. It was the first I could ever remember myself enjoying the company of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Cedric came up to me and said he was very sorry, but that he would like to take Neville Hotbottom to the ball instead of me. Angelina dumped Fred to go out with George. Well, she's actually not sure which of them she dumped, but she is going out with one of them. And I almost mentally referred to Moo as "Katie," but caught myself just in time.  
  
It was good while it lasted. But the party gradually trickled away, leaving only Roger and myself. We had seen and talked to each other earlier today, but this was the first occasion I had properly spent time with him after our disastrous little talk this morning. I felt suddenly awkward.  
  
"Roger?" I spoke up suddenly. "Can I ask you a question?"  
  
"All in good time," he said, and smiled. There are better-looking guys in the school, but no one can hold a wand to him in the smile department. "But first I have a little game that just the two of us can play." He reached into his robe and withdrew a vial of some kind of milky-blue liquid, which he took a mouthful of, then handed to me.  
  
"What's this?" I asked.  
  
"It's the counter-solution to Veritasium," he explained. "That way when I ask you a question, you don't have to be honest with me."  
  
I raised the vial to my lips and drank. "Are we playing Truth or Dare or I Have Never?"  
  
"Both," he confirmed. As I passed the vial back to him I realised that his hand was shaking. "I remember our conversation this morning and I don't think it went the way I intended. Perhaps if I try a different means of communication, it will go off better. Do you want to go first, or shall I?"  
  
"I will," I said. Roger's behaviour was very strange and I needed to stall for time and suss the situation out before I committed myself to anything. "I don't have a Dare in mind, so I'm just going to offer you a Truth. When you said you were a coward after the match today, what did you mean? I thought you were very brave about that Bludger you took to the stomach."  
  
"I wasn't brave about the Bludger I took this morning," Roger replied. "I'm going to give you an I Have Never question. Now, to your left is Hannah Abbot's glass. She's a Hufflepuff so her glass won't have Veritasium in it." I picked up Hannah's glass. He bent down and picked someone's discarded vessel off the floor.  
  
"Roger, that's Angelina's glass," I pointed out. "It will have Veritasium in it."  
  
"I know," he said. "I need it. Like you said, I'm a coward." His hand was shaking so badly that some of the liquid had sloshed onto his sleeve, and he took a hasty gulp.  
  
"Roger, what is this about?" I asked. "I'm tired and confused and I would really like you to be straight with me."  
  
"I have never been in love with someone on my Quidditch team," Roger blurted out. He *ohmygodohmygodohmygod* raised the glass to his lips and swallowed. My own hand trembling now, I did the same. We both smiled and took a step closer to each other.  
  
THE END  
  
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Well, it's finally all over. Thanks for sticking with me this far and let me know what you think! 


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